Because I am BDH (Bored, Depressed and Human) and I Like Films: The Construction of Fear

I am not a fan of the horror genre. In fact, I avoid it. The last film that afflicted unbearable insomnia was Paranormal Activity (Peli, 2007). I did not understand what caused the eye luggage two years ago (Peli's film was such a trend back then). Perhaps it was the paranoia of the small details. 

Over the one-day break, I felt discomfort (pressure? stress?) which later motivated me to watch pseudo-documentary horror films. [Rec] (Balaguero & Plaza, 2007) is a gorgeous Spanish film that incorporates horror cliches into an organism that breathes on its own. The Blair Witch Project (Myrick & Sanchez, 1999) set a new standard for horror during its period by allowing the audience to fear a witch that is never caught on film.

What contributed to the fear effect of the two films as well as Paranormal Activity was the point-of-view. All of which were 'filmed' with handheld cameras. This allows the audience to view particular vantage points. Also, as the 'cameraman' records selected scenes for the audience, he or she acts as a participant or character in the scenes. In [Rec], Pablo is never revealed but his heavy breathing and shaking voice adds to the mood of the film as well as exemplifies his role as a participant.

Horror films are actually implicit representations of a power struggle. Who exactly controls who? If the screaming TV host were to actually scare off these zombie-like creatures, then you have a gory comedy. However, that is not the case. These zombie-like creatures whose origins are vague and unknown run after the humans, bite them, and turn them into fellow zombies. The lack of knowledge on the origins of these zombies further worsens the power disparity between humans and zombies. 

Films only go insofar as the camera and microphone wills to record. Select lines are uttered. Embellishments such as background music allow some moments to be emphasized. Each character, being representations of beings in real life, has his or her own context which the film tries to snip out and fit in a narrative.

Horror films are films. Some directors/producers aim for the audiences to be shit-in-their-pants scared but one has to take into account that horror films could be dissected into its elements and could be understood qua being a film. 

[REC]

Rec later unfolds a context which roots to the Vatican and the mission of a priest to cleanse the world of an odd disease. Apparently, the disease makes the victims into zombie-like beings. A local TV reporter and her cameraman are lured into this context.

The primary plot mover of the film (because without this terrible irrationality, all the characters would have been saved) is the isolation. The characters are locked in an apartment building by government authorities because of the possibility of a Bio-hazard. Because of that, there is no room to scream for help. Danger swims towards its victim and the victim is helpless. Horror plots feed on that premise and so [Rec] dances along. 

The secondary plot mover is Angela, the woman who insists that the whole event be filmed. Most horror films have this character archetype: the daredevil or curious cat which insists that its companions to join him or her into the suspicious.

One may imagine that the whole film becomes a playing field. The setting is isolated and there is no escape. The characters are already helpless as it is. Angela as the lead pushes the narrative of While You Sleep which is pregnant with the contexts of the TV reporter, the cameraman and the firemen converges with the narrative of the Vatican and the zombie disease. The film plays with cliche elements like disease, zombies and intense isolation and it worked.

The Blair Witch Project

The Blair Witch Project is remarkable in a film age wherein horror is attached to the scarier-looking flesh-eating supernatural being.  The main antagonist in this film is the witch who is never seen. The plot mover is the idea of being lost while filming a documentary about the Blair Witch who I hope is a representation of the history of Blair.

The key element of the film is the unknown. What are those sounds? What in the world do those piles of rocks mean? Compared to Rec, whose horror we later understand is a disease, the Blair Witch leaves the horror completely to the viewer's imagination. No one is explicitly being dismembered. No real children are seen. We don't even hear the witch's cackle. Nothing makes any sense. It is a play on the human condition that has improved over the years because of scientific and logical knowledge.

Because the film focuses on the human condition, its main characters are emotional and scared human beings who react to their surroundings. They hear and see things that the few years of their lives have never imagined. The only context they know is that of the people they interviewed and the legends that they have heard.

Anyway, that's enough discussion. I was merely typing my thoughts on the two films. Perhaps in the future my world view will mature and the perspectives I pick in viewing films will be more tasty. Yes, tasty. If you are frightened, listen to something sexy. 

If you liked my musings (hihi, feelingera?) on these two films or disliked them so much and are masochistic, try reading my other filmy posts: Eraserhead (Lynch, 1977) and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Gondry, 2004)

Reason is my god

If Nietzsche thought that all values dissolved along with the notion of a god, I say that those values still exist because of reason. Through reason do we understand the logical framework of cause and effect. Through reason do our social constructions live and all our apprehensions which mold our constructions. The world is but a playing field and through the faculty of reason, we are able to make sense of it to our own advantage.

So, although everything to me is 'broken' along with values systems (nihilism) and well, love, reason reigns supreme and it is the fountainhead for everything that has ever been created.

(Actually, nag eemo lang ako)

Carry 35k words in 2 weeks? :(

Why I Love Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Honestly, I am sick of talking about myself because that is not what I am only about. I have stopped talking about my passions in a passionate way. I have stopped talking about my ideas. NaNoWriMo, our writing escapades, the material I am currently reading, the movies I have been watching have all told me that I should finally shift my attention. My next posts will feature the beautiful and the ugly, the good and the wicked. But before I reach those depths, allow me to lighten the load. I will be talking about one of my favorite films, a film I have watched dozens of times but haven't tired of: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Gondry, 2004).

This is not supposed to be a film review. It's more of a eulogy and perhaps I might splurge it in biases.

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Most people would find films as purely didactic or cathartic. Some would dismiss sexuality or vulgarity in films because it clashes with their moral beliefs. Others would dismiss the "boring" films because they expect a kind of emotional provocation. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind surely has a "message" and the very premise of the film is emotionally gripping but those are not the only reasons why I love the film. I bow to Charlie Kaufman and Michel Gondry.

The beginning of anything produces lasting marks. The impression the very first scene gives me is of elegance.  It begins with a zoomed-in focus of Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) waking "on the wrong side of the bed". Playful background music plays. Then, the camera angle follows the angle of the Joel's bed. Then, Joel kicks the blanket. The hue is even in cold blue. Jim Carrey's voice over is a solemn stream-of-consciousness. (Note, however, that the voice over scenes are very sparse.) The voice over is purposeful. It gives us a perspective of our hero's consciousness. This comes in handy as it hints Joel's clueless-ness--a clue of the memory erasure. When Clementine Kruczynski  appears, we are forced to seek a different perspective. Joel is no longer the focus here; the chemistry of the couple at "first sight" is limelighted. We are given the impression that the two have a sense of familiarity.

Eventually, more characters are introduced and several back stories are revealed. The dysfunctional couple Carrie and Rob who fight in every scene they appear in poses a case study for fluctuating relationships. Another notable couple is Dr. Mierzwiak and Mary who both give us another case study of romantic affairs and their ramifications. All these back stories show that each character has deeper roots and that this movie simply captures snippets of grander chronologies, making the film more human. These characters are not simple or static, their behavior in the present-time of the film are grounded on their pasts. Instead of being used as instruments to expound on Clementine and Joel's narrative, they enrich the plot of the film and gives us the impression of people, relationships and lives.

Although the film is presented as a story of people erasing memories in order to stop suffering and move on with their lives, it speaks a lot about being human. Every single detail in the film is aesthetically utilized to express its message. Clementine's potatoes expounds on her jumpy personality. Mary's using of quotations serves multi-utilities: a predication of her character (how she seeks to strike a conversation with Dr. Mierzwiak), further expressions of forgetfulness as freedom from suffering and the last piece of the puzzle for our poetic title. We seek emotional solace to continue our functionality but at the same time, emotions are the rudimentary pieces of being human. This multi-layered film beautifully packages the messages, but not perfectly, into something expressive on every single level.

 I am glad to have experienced this film. Every viewing of mine stimulates a different response. Sometimes I find myself contemplating on the details. Other times, I find the calmer scenes tear-jerking. But that is precisely what love does: it compels you to seek different perspectives and by those perspectives, appreciate and love the object even more--although object is such a detached word. If a movie were to be a carnal man in my life, it would be Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It is not only didactic or cathartic. It has an organic unity. It has the ability to capture moments' that matter and present it in such a beautiful manner--like Nabokov's writing (I keep rambling about it, I know).

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There's an emotional core to each of our memories, and when you eradicate that core it starts its degradation process. - Dr. Mierzwiak

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Movies like this remind me of why I take pains in downloading films and watching them no matter how boring or how lengthy. It's the processing of crushing the films and breathing them in that keeps me alive. (Excuse the drug reference.) The same goes for all other mediums of art. I am currently high on beauty.

My last film discussion, by the way, is David Lynch's Eraserhead. Read it here.

Ramblings: Because Love Does Not Exist

I wrote this last night when my internet was fluctuating:

Nostalgia

I have already forgotten your name

Your birthday

Your cellphone number

The names of your siblings

Your mother’s face

Even your face, your cat-like face

In the past our fingers laced awkwardly

Our lips met in youthful eagerness

Our embraces emancipated us

And we fantasized as

The moon lit the salty seas

Of our only restaurant date

Because she was jealous of the city lights

The bitterness of yesterday

No longer bites me

And I write this poem

With a happy heart

But you are with her

And I am with my pride

Perhaps this summarizes

The adorable romance we had

The last time my heart (I cringed at the use of it) truly oscillated was three years ago. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I could feel a weight on my chest. There was never a moment so uncertain and so terrifying. I still recall the pangs of its brokenness and helplessness of holding on. Nothing could match it in passion or downright insanity. When obsession and the intense desire for control sit at polar opposites, perhaps that is the first symptom of a love so corrupting.

Love and rationality should never tango. And lately, I have been cynical over the whole concept of love. It seems to be just chemical reactions that go wild over a person's pheromones. That makes sense for we are animals who claim to be more evolved, more rational and other "mores" that we pride ourselves. At the end however, one could simply scrutinize the idea of love the way it chooses to shove religion and the concept of a god.

Years ago, I told my dear friend that it would take me forever to love like that again. I realize how right I was. Because although I scrutinize over the whole concept of love, I still wish to tread the line between plummeting and soaring.

Humoresque

My Body Clock
At the peak of my sleepiness, I detest witnessing the sunrise. Surely, this marks the beginning of a person's day but it is the unfortunate mark of the insomnia I have inflicted upon myself. The heat of due dates and exams has long cooled and eventually, it will emblazon once again. I cannot even impose a normalizing tinker of my body clock which has long been adjusted to a stressed sophomore's necessity. My body insists my wakefulness. I do not lack the necessary number of hours of shut-eye but my body seemingly lacks those night chemicals with long names my mother easily memorizes.

The Infancy of my Writing Style
Nabokov and Fitzgerald have harnessed writing styles that I do not expect to match in a couple of years. My writing style is ripe. I still lack the vocabulary necessary to capture the intricacies of my surroundings. Fitzgerald handles words with such drama that the plot of Gatsby's endeavors seemed so vivid as opposed to the dullness of Austen's imagery (I don't really like her, as the reader might have already known). Nabokov has an art of word combination that the tastes of the syllables dance on your tongue--as if each letter has a flavor the taste buds could not exact in all precision. Such beauty. Such majesty. How depressing.

Passion
My lack of it. Apparently, dullness is an understatement. Even my dreams are morose. Thankfully, there are many worlds to explore and there are many lands to tread. I have lost the ability to desire. Even my desire to desire is bland and fucking weak. I am a walking rag doll with an uneven temper and fluctuating moods. But to be nice to myself, I shall say that I am unique. Euphemisms.

Because I feel the breaks and the fluxes dramatic:

Bite-Sized Remnants for Sem Break

To begin, the ironic and haunting:

Such harmony! The irony lies in how the haunting nature of the film is subdued by the sweet, major key of this gorgeous soundtrack by Ennio Morricone.

The Outcomes:


I had a rather long checklist before the break and I admit I was doubtful of my willpower (yes, willpower) to mark every item. Apparently, I no longer become bothered by my measly achievements. And I guess that should be preferred over my obsession of sprinting through extravagant goals in my  checklist. Instead, I shall persevere to the more feasible and leave the weighty ones on hold.


1. National Novel Writing Month

In 6 days, I will begin writing an amateur 50,000-word novel for this event I have no outline yet. Let alone a rough, hazy notion of what my NaNoWriMo novel will be. But to sharpen the tongue of my inner muse, I will participate in this 'literary group' of ours and read more intensively the works of Nabokov, Dostoyevsky and Austen (though I despise Austen, her writing is necessary to influence my style) to mention a few.

2. TV Shows and Yaoi

As I am typing this, I am downloading several television shows. I have already finished the 3rd season of Breaking Bad (the game of chess begins!) and the 1st season of Junjou Romantica. Cringe at my appetite for ardent testosterone love but Yaoi could be analyzed with the beauty of stereotypes and its stratagems in pleasing the estrogen audience.

3. Minor in Development Management

During the past few days, I have been outlining my strategy to proceed with my college life and it involves a strong curiosity for government/NGO development projects. Somehow I find the life of a bourgeois attorney  unattractive. The deceit (which is very inherent in the courtroom) clashes with my principles and I dislike the idea that being capable of deceit is a sign of some intelligence. I've decided to gear myself to more developmental work and minor in Development Management. If necessary, I'll double major. Double majoring in a social science is quite easy because my Philosophy Free Electives could be on Foucault and Development and my thesis could be credited to both Philosophy and Development Studies. But I'll leave the heavier decision for my junior year.

4. Pokemon Emerald


I am still leveling up all my Pokemon to 40. But I found the task too tiring so I watch Yaoi instead.


I do not record all of my achievements but somehow the list above made me feel quite fulfilled. Hahaha. Especially the virtual weight of all the Yaoi I've been watching which isn't much, by the way. I end my post with very estrogen-filled pop lyrics that could summarize my transition from bitterness to fuel for momentum.

And I'm not the girl that I intend to be/ But I dare you, darlin', just wait and see/ But this time not for you, but just for me - Gonna Get Over You by Sara Bareilles 

Counting my Chickens Before They Hatch

Films:
Lord of the Rings 1 and 2
Otto e mezzo
Rashomon
Delicatessen
Der Maerikanische Freund
Love of Siam
Hero
Krotki Film o Milosci
La Dolce Vita
Leaves of Grass
Leolo
Magnificent Obsession
My Girl
Persepolis
Star Wars (3)
The Big Lebowski
The Tender Trap
The Lincoln Lawyer
To Catch A Thief
True Grit
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf
An Affair To Remember
Full Metal Jacket
Inland Empire
Insiang
Its a Wonderful Life
Keeping the Faith
Kynodontas
My Dinner With Andre
Se7en
Spirited Away
The Kids Are All Right
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
The Truman Show

Books:
Atlas Shrugged
Dracula
1984
Scarlet Letter
Middlesex
Sense and Sensibility
Odyssey
The History of Sexuality
Ethics
Moby Dick
100 Years of Solitude
Atonement
The Republic

Things To Do:
Learn More French
Practice Driving
Learn How To Cook

I'll make the most out of my 3 weeks of pure bliss.

God's Playlist

I am no good at being a student. My body keeps conspiring against me. Drowsiness always overpowers me. Right now, I am supposed to be studying for a Filipino Long Test later and I have not studied yet. So instead, I shall creep myself out with this awesome soundtrack from Aronofsky's Requiem for a Dream. I do not expect anything from myself anymore.

GMH :(

The same scene plays everyday. Clocks alarm. I hear sniffles that signify sickness. The fan continues to oscillate. Then the unenthusiastic sleepyheads sit up and leave behind yesterday as if it were a used sanitary napkin.You are made to use it once and reusing it would be utterly repulsive. The same scheme remakes itself day after day after day. Going against this flow is, well, as the wise king said: "Like running after the wind"

I no longer feel that nervousness to a maximum. It feels so much more relaxing now. Too relaxing. Maybe I am being carried in the wing's arms? Though there is nothing to carry. My ambitions lay down flat. I am doubting them now. Then I went to the Ateneo art gallery and saw that Rizal only knew sparse Spanish in college. I have a chance to improve! Will this be in the course of my wind ways?

I need deep time. I have not even given myself the chance to be truly happy. Everything so far was for the sake of analysis or some empty sense of living. Now...GIVE ME HAPPINESS (HOPE) and JOY and all that shiz. I  just want to make this world....a better place---at least in the Ann parameter.

dundundunnnn

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME (haha)

When I arrived home, I swore that I would read History the whole day. I would not rely on the ppt notes. I would actually read the most boring history book in the world--word from word and attempt to remember every detail. The idea of being able to accomplish such a task is titillating and I arrive home with a well-formed goal in my mind. I become proud of myself then I open my laptop and end up Facebooking, 9gag-ing and C.H-ing. I check the clock and its almost sun down. So I decide to do the task at nighttime instead. It is nighttime and I feel more like reflecting.

I am angry at myself because my problems are so easily remedied. If I just began in a task right away, it would be finished just as swiftly and I can relax. But no, I never reach the state of being finished (at least in the magis way) because I never begin. I do accomplish the required tasks but I never finish what would make me feel better.

:(

I do not like to procrastinate. Actually I want to finish things. BUT NO....

Bye.

Why the hell am I sorting out everything and not reading for history?

Because Life is a Piece of Shit...

Always Look at the Bright Side of Life

Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979) Ending

Words and Music by Eric Idle

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the right side of life...

 And with that...back to History

Obligation

I am overwhelmed. So many things have to be done in so little time.

(I am writing this blog for a non-existing audience. I do not mean that no one will read this, no. In fact, dwellers will come by here and there. I am writing as if I am writing for nobody.)

So many books to read. So many movies to watch. So many new things to open up to. So many things to master. I am trying to simulate a character I've created: my ideal self. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Life is supposed to be simulated. We have Sims and it is now in Facebook. You can be anybody you want to be without suffering the "real consequences" in "real life". Aside from games of simulation, other arts have successful blurred our grasp of reality. Art itself mimics life. Through art, a culture has been created. The idea of what is simulated is consequently being blurred and perhaps has detached us from reality-whatever it is. Perhaps we are all drones of a simulation of a fantasy.

I do not want to dwell on reality-whatever it is because it is pointless. If this is a "video game", I'd live it in utter ignorance. Ignorance is bliss and I want the bliss because it is much more convenient.

I am not a happy person.

Intimidation and Desecration

The image of the white page element-less from the one-inch margined top to the equally margined bottom conjoined with the ticking line incessantly waiting for an input is the most hypnotic visualization of a painfully clueless beginning or an agonizing adrenaline rush triggered by the heat of procrastination. My mind is fixed on the possibilities of exploring the glorious medieval Japanese lands flooded with political blood lust whose three-hours-a-week discussion is in total contrast with the topic. Our previous professor left with excitement but does not fail to either caress the stressed muscles of our forehead with marks of glory or slap our cheeks with utter shame. I was left to rot and decay in deep regret of the latter and the pangs of the initial feeling-the most powerful reaction to that dreaded mark-still linger in my chest. The blank page in all metaphysics contain the profundity of an organized well-substantiated reflection on the Simile of the Cave but in the nakedness of reality, it looks like a sorry promise of burnt time. The Tokugawa Polity should be devoured by now but the feeling of intimidation ticks at my very center and ripples to my veins.

From the beginning of my freshman year to the moment I have been typing this rant on life, I have been a loser bowing her head as she walks the paths of the "successful"--in the metaphorical sense. No longer will I submit to this outrageous vacuum I have created. Destruction should commence. I should defile the written accounts of Aristotle's students with approving highlights and black comments and insights. I should desecrate the smoothness of all my assigned readings with wrinkles and folds evidencing merciless consumption. I will devour it with the gluttony of a grizzly bear removed from all sources of nourishment. And as for you, intimidating blankness, I shall vandalize your body with the most well-thought of ideas I could generate with my whole being. And I murder my old self along with the mutilation of the strands of my hair. Good bye, asshole.

A tinge of hope

The day starts dandily with my almost oversleeping. It progresses to my emotional appetites overpowering me. It ends with a moral lesson (so high school) and a narrative full of unity. Literature has had a strong influence on me.

Nevermind that sad score in the midterms because the benefits of the grading system is that it is mathematical. There is a numerical way to redeem yourself. Nevermind those sad moments in Filipino class wherein your efforts are not enough because time moves on and one can do so to and improve given the time period. Nevermind the frustration of carelessness and all those circumstances because you now know how important it is to avoid them. Nevermind grades because grade consciousness dwindles the consciousness on education and learning.

Hoo ha! I won't allow you to eat me alive, grades! You numerical bastard! You are but numbers which represent participation in class and my compliance with requirements. Class participation and requirements are supposed to reflect how much a student learns in the course. But that can never be measured. Grades are twice removed from the reality of how much a person has learned! Therefore, as Plato puts it, it is not the TRUTH.

I am giving myself hope. Smiles. :)

Oh, darn.

My last blog post is much later in date. I apologize to myself because of that. Somehow this blog serves as my though catalog: a way to assert my unassertive self. Being the silent person that I am, blogs should be valued.

Moving on.

Events fare according to many circumstances--we do not intend these to be factors of a bigger picture. This is pain. My carelessness is circumstantial. My fluctuating moods are circumstantial. My impulsiveness is circumstantial. My sleepiness is circumstantial. Everything that has been the cause my misfortune is circumstantial. You may then say that "what the fuck is this girl ranting about now? She is just letting herself run away from her own faults!" That may be so. And I frown upon myself for even thinking that every sad moment I've experienced recently is because of circumstance.

But let me analyze for a moment. What the hell is up with my sense of feeling and my blaming circumstance?

Failure pains me. In the past it has not. It used to serve as a part of life. When I feel like I've failed a standard I've set up for myself, I wallow in a bottomless pit. Since childhood, I have worked against humiliation (for whatever reason I had back then) and if I do become humiliated, I fail into some emotional dump. Fuck emotions! Why did humans have to be built with such a distracting thing anyway? Instead of being sad, we could just move on and do the job we have to do for society--because we are a part of it and we benefit/detriment from it. But noooo, we have to be all human and cry for a period of time and wallow for an even longer period.

Then there's that sense of circumstance. If I blame my misfortunes on circumstances, that would benefit my ego greatly. Nothing is of my fault. I could not have done anything to prevent it. But you are not convinced of this as much as I am. Why? Because, humans have been the "master(s) of their fate(s)" since time be. That is complete bull! We are the masters of our fate/s? Everything that we are is an effect of the external to ourselves. Nothing is up to us.

Shall I go by my old philosophy? Whatever happens, happens?

Or should I create another one?

I am tired of this feeling. This feeling of failure because of a sense I probably cannot control. Actually, I am not convinced of that, either, dear reader. And as my years progress, I will be even more convinced that some things could change because of me.

Now, it is time to act. But allow me to watch True Blood first.

I want this post to haunt me

I may be a masochist but looking at my failures seems to be fuel for more drive. I have posted my F paper in HI16. This is supposed to be a reflection paper on The Lost City of Shang juxtaposed with our first lesson. I doubt this will be subject to plagiarism and I do not post this in vain but in sheer enlightenment. Grabe, ang odd ko. But that's how I roll.

In searching for the past of anything, we try to find the roots of the present. That is the reason history is relevant. We gain this consciousness of the past while viewing the present. Such a perspective allows a sense of meaning and connectedness with that which contributed to what we are. I try to think of history that way so that I would find it interesting. With that in mind, I take note of the Shang dynasty the culture which shaped the cultures that follow it—the wholeness of the Chinese culture and possibly the global culture. Given how the Philippine culture has Chinese influences, the Shang is relevant to us as well. This is, of course, an extreme over-scaling of how cultures emerge from other cultures but because we are so heavily influenced by the Chinese and the Shang culture definitely had its own impact on the overall Chinese culture, the relevance still remains.

             “Today, finding the lost world of Shang is a race against time,” says the narrator of the documentary “The Lost City of Shang”. In my opinion, this one statement summarizes the grueling process in discovering the lost city of Shang. The kind of culture of a society is shown through its everyday utensils, tools etc.—the things we find ordinary today that were once essential in the functioning of their society. These evidences of a culture could not last forever and will eventually crumble. Archaeologists and other experts have to find these evidences before they disintegrate into the earth. The ruins of the lost city may ruin and be nothing but dust or hardened soil.

            The search is further lengthened because of the possible tampering of evidence (such as that of the tortoise shells being tampered by locals who wish for some income) and also natural phenomena. Physical and chemical weathering could affect the quality of the rocks that once bore messages which the people of that time thought were prophetic. These messages reflect the society which created it. Weathering could also make ancient architecture fall apart. The quality of relics could never match their physical condition thousands of years ago. All of the splendor that was once Shang could never be authentically captured.

            The search for Shang stretches to centuries of digging up dirt and burning eyebrows interpreting historical records. This I find almost intimidating; however, I am relieved by the progress of science and technology. Science and technology gives mankind the ability to reveal a part of reality. It also means having a better picture of the reality of Shang despite all of these conditions from the past that affect the present. I find this fascinating. Because of which, the artifacts could be dated and the reliance on written accounts which are—by nature—subjective and susceptible to error would not be as necessary. These written accounts are presupposed to be biased and another disadvantage of relying on these records would be how they give us a one-sided view. This limited perspective does not allow us to see the whole picture of the past and could also cloud us even more with that one-sided subjectivity. In addition, the written accounts are all by memory and human memory is not that reliable and could easily be unintentionally manipulated. All these terms prove that reliable objective primary sources are hard to find and because of that, history could never be “perfect” or “complete”. Even objectivity is questionable because by nature, human beings subscribe to their individualism.

            History has several gaps and it is impossible to record everything that has ever happened. We have never experienced the Shang dynasty and several factors have blurred our sources of information regarding it. An example of these factors is the great flood that once engulfed the Shang and this eventually becomes land which the city of Song stands on. In addendum to physical weathering which could affect evidence, natural phenomena such as earthquakes could leave potential evidences further ensconced.

            The whole notion of excavating artifacts and digging into the past is a difficult one because it means having to transcend space and time. We have not experienced the culture of that area of the world nor have we experienced the era. We will never be certain of the actuality of the past because we could never relive that era. The only way for us to connect with the past is through the intermediaries. These intermediaries could be acquired through the unraveling of new evidences. Our capability to find better intermediaries to the past has improved over time. Instead of reading a journal entry describing the grandeur of the lost city, the ability to have more objective descriptions and facts on the “world of Shang” is finally possible because of advancement.

            My intermediary to the Shang and the unraveling of the lost city is the documentary “The Lost City of Shang”. The documentary is presented to inform English-speaking people (very obvious in its use of language). All of the information present in the documentary was picked from pools of data. The process of picking itself is a sense of interpretation. However, it tries to be as objective as possible. The documentary was obviously created by Westerners because of how detached the approach is towards the culture it is presenting. For instance, it highlights details which it believes its viewers would be interested in such as how the tortoise shells were considered as dragon bones (because the Chinese subscribed magical powers to dragons and they found these shells magical) or how elite inhabitants of the city of Shang would drink out of a human skull. However odd these practices and beliefs may seem to be, they are respected and even considered as sacred practices and beliefs by the Shang. The dragons are sacred beings which represent good fortune for the Chinese people. The drinking from the human skull is a way of respecting the dead. Of course, in the Westernized view, this would be regarded as morbid and strange. If we try to think the way the people of the Shang would (which is a requirement in studying any historical document), we would be able to examine these practices otherwise.

            Historical evidences would include records and artifacts which were once useful tools. Historians of the future would also take into account the new mediums of record and the new technologies. An example of new mediums of record is the documentary itself. What I find interesting is how the documentary does not only present the history of Shang but also the recent history of the finding of Shang. This entails how legends of emperors were deemed fictitious by scholars, how a Chinese scholar found possible evidence in the tortoise shell and how present-day scientists excavate and find proof that date to thousands of years ago. Educated people from Harvard and MIT collaborate in the search. This progress in unraveling the remnants of the past so easily reflects the innovation of mankind. The process of “finding” history by means of excavating artifacts, digging up ruins and interpreting historical texts is shown in the documentary. We see how the scattered evidences are being pieced together.

            History allows us to connect with the shapers of our present. In order to have a picture of our history, we need to have intermediaries which are available according to how much we can find. In the end, all these accounts and artifacts which serve as our intermediaries would never be able to give us absolute clarity on what the past was like. Because of that, history seems to me as a collection of evidences which were merely pieced together to make the simplest sense.     

            I guess that is why History is a social science. Our evidences are sometimes limited to personal accounts of people who have been long dead and gone and the only choice for society, us, to have a history is to accept one. It seems more to me that nothing is absolutely true and that everything is permitted. I will not dwell on nihilism. Though this is the case, it does not make history any less relevant. In fact, this expands our consciousness of the past—that sense of disintegration, loss and progress. Consciousness of the past is very relevant to how the present functions. Although this paper will be an account of the past to the present reader, I am aware and I have aligned my writing to that consciousness.

Because Summer is Coming To A Close

The summer heat will be but a memory and the allure of absolute freedom will cease to exist. Although the summer heat will still be apparent, it will radiate towards the walls of my new 'home'. Welcome me back, ARSA! There is a difference sweating in Paranaque and in the wonderful land of the Ateneo. May it be said that sweating inside the university every day is a privilege only a few experience. Ha! (And an air conditioned classroom is plain luck) Take that for perspective. I bid goodbye to summer.

I have entertained myself with 55 movie titles varying from the melodramatic to the likes of Monty Python. It was fun to view the movies with a more critical eye and the criticality of my views improved after every film. At least I think so. I was awakened to the slums of Rio de Janiero (City of God by Meirelles) and the older demon-themed horror films (like Rosemary's Baby by Polanski. I will check out the Exorcist eventually). The incoming year will prevent me from viewing my Kubrick, von Trier, Lang and all the other directors I have cherished in the short 2 and a half months I have already spent. It will leave me to wallow.

Swimming and driving are a few of the many things I have learned in the season. I have learned, yes. I now have the liberty to check that off my list. Though I have had fits of boredom (they were strong fits at that), the summer was productive as a whole. I can drive a manual and automatic car but am more proficient with the latter. I can swim in different styles. I looked through several good reads. I took a bite out of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. I experienced the grandeur of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby (which will be made into a movie soon starring my darling Leonardo di Caprio). My nose bled to Melville's epic, Moby Dick. I have finished almost a hundred Sudoku puzzles. The list shall go on. Do not get me started on the good TV shows I have come across.

There, approximately 1440 hours in a few paragraphs.

Drugs: True Blood and Breaking Bad

The process of drug addiction is very simple. It begins with the intake of drugs. Then the euphoria kicks in. After which, the body craves for more. If the druggie's body absolutely requires the next dosage, it will start withdrawal. The ending of the process is entirely up to the addict with a plausible death toll wavering its flag at the end of the finish line. Like a foot race. How morbid.

Why the hurry?

Similar to crystal meth and heroin, I have had extreme doses of True Blood (HBO). This three-seasoned (and a fourth coming this June) genius by 'the' Alan Ball has created a great state of high and now I am in withdrawal. It is the television adaptation of the Sookie Stachouse novels by Charlaine Harris following Sookie Stackhouse and how she copes with the supernatural beings that surround her in a playing field of vampires that seek equal rights with humans.

Because no official promotional poster is
available yet.

Though I have not read a novel of Harris' series, I do say that the television counterpart is outstanding. It is pregnant with allegories and metaphors pertaining to the discrimination of minorities. It also showcases ideas on several grounds such as the nature of an individual. Technicality-wise (but let me be brief), the cast is ensemble; even the extras. The style of narration is simple. Every single aspect of the show is strategic and gripping. All these points rise it above other vampire-related media at present. If you think of the series as a whole, it is sexy (damn straight) and addicting. June 26 is but a mile away and I shall satisfy myself with the equally sexy teasers and trailers.

I would post a racy pic of Eric Northman but I think
this suffices the portrayal of "sexiness".

Speaking of drugs and drug addiction, a show comes to mind: Breaking Bad (AMC; produces a lot of good stuff like The Walking Dead and Mad Men). Compared to True Blood, it has excellent cinematic camera work and the script is better written (True Blood compensates, though, with vivid imagery and multidimensional characters whereas Breaking Bad is focused on a few; leaving several useful characters dry). Imagine a Chemistry genius who incorporates his knowledge into the drug realm by creating the purest crystal meth. His motives for which are noble. Also, we see how he evolves from a meek overly-qualified Chemistry teacher who never has had a say in his life to Heisenberg, the sought out "drug lord" of the underworld. The times he is badass on screen is also compelling. I am sure Chuck Palahniuk could write a thing or two about Heisenberg's male aggression.

Smart and kickass.

These are two really good shows. A cornucopia of relevant issues are presented to the viewers. If you are a fan of such things like myself, go ahead, take a dosage and we shall experience euphoria together. (Hippie)

As for this, well, some other time.

Paranoia

I can feel the world ending and this is no foresight nor a prediction. In fact, this is one of those sporadic moments wherein one gets paranoid and fears the duration of his or her existence. Because I have only felt this queer eerie feeling right now, I shall proceed to expressing my sentiments.

1. Do not blame me for my rather "messed up" philosophy. I maybe nihilist most of the time and the meaning of life escapes me but that is because I find that belief far more plausible than any other ideology, existence-wise and religion-wise. All my other beliefs are aligned to this. I am not communist but I am quite close to it --minus the freedom part; I believe in freedom. I wish that we all could be willing to contribute to the survival of every individual. We all do not know what awaits at the end of our lifetime. I am selfish at this though. I fear my end just like everybody else and I would be far more appeased if I were to end in oblivion.

2. As of this moment, you mean a lot to me.

3. I am just another messed up person. Do not expect any thing from me. I feel pressure. So much pressure. And most of it is inflicted on myself.

4. Forgive me. I am the worst person in the world. :(

...

Thoughts on May 20, 2011 Around 2AM

I am writing this blog against my own will. I have no raw material: no "thoughts of the day". No themes. Free writing is what the meticulous High School English teachers would call this process. As  I am writing, I will review my thoughts and probably type a couple in this intimidatingly blank space.

I believe that this summer has changed something inside of me. I hate vagueness like that but it feels so real. I feel the freedom and it has been assigned to me. See the paradox? Because I have now earned the abilities to drive and to swim, I feel more empowered. Empowerment is good. This whole summer was empowering. Last summer was a downer and albeit the Murakami books contributed to this. I cannot believe how passionate I suddenly became about uneasiness and the *true* human suffering (both are major issues tackled by Murakami). That somehow affected my whole school year. Now that sucked and made it so nonstrategic in every single "-wise" imaginable. Do not get me wrong. Reading something Murakami is enlightening and at times emotionally grappling but do be warned that after the task will you be semi-schizo or extremely mindfucked. It would be an experience you won't soon forget.

I have been watching True Blood again and it has been devouring me limb by limb. I watch the Season 4 trailer then suddenly I recap myself with the previous seasons. Darn! I wish it were June 27 already. I'd say June 26 but I blame the World Clock. I absolutely cannot wait any longer. I've counted the months with the withdrawal syndrome and finally the reality of Season 4 is so within my reach, I feel like I can touch the moon. I have a month of waiting left. Waiting SUCKS.

Urgent.

Lonely.

Eaten up.

An ad won't do bad right now. But that would be too pathetic.

What hurts the most is that

You don't even know me.

(New style. Don't feel like posting long)

A Contract? Might As Well Hold'Em.

A stream of topics cross my mind right now: Sudoku, Gilmore Girls, Fitzgerald and relationships. I do not understand how these four managed to make it to my mind amid the clutter and compel me to write a blog about them. I will coup them and highlight on something more particular.

Gilmore Girls has taken my attention for several weeks now and I do say that the attention will not die shortly. Episodes 16 and 18 of the second season have tidbits which I found rather poignant. If you follow the plot (and I warn you that if you haven't then this would be a massive spoiler), Dean and Rory have been in a relationship for two seasons now with a brief breakup in between. A new kid enters town and Lorelai disapproves of him because he is a bad boy and therefore is not the suitable companion for her angel daughter, Rory. Rory then befriends the new kid Jess and finds out that they have a lot in common. This friendliness springs insecurity in Dean. Dean then goes through this stage which one in the Filipino society would call "sakal". He pops out of Rory's side. He calls her more than 10 times in 3 hours. All of these absurdities in fear of losing the her.

Holy crap. Eyes start to sparkle. Dean finally admits his insecurities and says "She likes Jess, doesn't she." Then credits. What a disheartening turn of events!

Relationships are so humanly because they safeguard. Security. It assures a person that his/her partner is in fact his/hers. It gives them grounds to ensure each other's emotional stability. It is a contract that doesn't need any paperwork because it is a given fact. That is the very reason why people fear it. Once you say "yes" to a relationship with another person, it is a huge risk if you wish to preserve the very motive for starting one in the first place: love. You could get scared of losing your loved one to another and the relationship could probably be the only thing that binds you together. People could feel trapped and want some space. This usually ends up in heartbreak. Gilmore Girls gives an extremely comprehensive take on relationships: from Luke's blabbing to the extremely heartbreaking insecurity fit of Dean's.

Remember Tom from (500) Days of Summer? He had a need of assurance with his "something" with Summer which turned out to be nothing. Another heartbreaking scene.

(500) Days of Summer. They are just friends. Yeah right.

But do whatever you like. Relationships remind me a lot about Texas Hold'Em Poker. Texas Hold'Em is different from other poker games because you have the "all in" and you can maximize your bets. Also, after the river does not ensure a denouement. You can give your all at the right time with the right cards or give everything and lose and get busted.

Pain, utter pain. Why don't we all just go back to the days when love was just there and relationships and dating were non-existent. What peeves me is how people always pair up "Love and Relationships" in headers of self-help websites.

"You can give your all at the right time with the right cards
or give everything and lose and get busted. "

Jared Padalecki versus Milo Ventimiglia and Summer

You may glare at me in skepticism because of seeming like a hormonal fan girl. To your utter dismay, I am--with great depth and passion. A depth unfathomable to the stereotypical unlike the fast-talking Rory Gilmore. A passion blazing like the fire that made to ashes the Winchester home in Supernatural. Both are worth the mentioning in the first part of this post. I will not enumerate the parts though.

It feels gay all of a sudden..They were both so
much cuter 8 years ago

Supernatural and Gilmore Girls have one thing in common: Jared Padalecki. (I wish he had his newly-legal-aged hair back). This is not supposed to catalyze a squealing moment. I was introduced to this relation because of watching the latter and by finishing a full season of the former, I can tell you that I did not regret anything.

Supernatural follows brothers Dean Winchester (Jensen Ackles) and Sam Winchester (Jared Padalecki) in their quest to find their father and the demon that killed their mother whilst hunting for supernatural beings to protect others. I do say that the first 12 episodes were blandish and seemed typical American mystery-thriller formula but the overlying plot starts to develop and the brotherly chemistry becomes more tangible. I adore how the creators made such an awesome duo--a hot duo at that (ehem) and am glad at how the series seems to be improving (I haven't watched the more recent seasons yet so I can't judge).

I am out-of-date when it comes to pop culture. I have only started to explore the popular television shows. This explains why I am only at the second season of Gilmore Girls. Thank goodness. After an overly sweet first season, I convinced myself to not destroy my impression of the series. Anyhow, I still watched the second season. A new bibliophile-bad boy character, Jess (Milo Ventimiglia), appears and causes commotion in Stars Hollow. He is also obtrusively trying to woo Rory. This peeves her boyfriend Dean (Jared Padalecki) and causes jealousy, rage and an awesome fist fight. I have read the spoilers and I know what to expect. I should stop doing that. Also, it is only now that I notice how static Dean's character is despite how heavy it is supposed to be. This is something of speculation. Hm..

Enough of my pop culture blabbing.

Summer has been both therapeutic and troublesome. Therapeutic because I have found cathartic hobbies. Troublesome because of several hot heads in my surroundings-myself included. I felt engulfed by some metaphysical gluttonous entity and needed to free myself so I rummaged through the toys we had and found my beloved 500-piece jigsaw puzzle. Hoorah. My mother and I are 30% through with it and we believe that pieces are missing; to my benefit, however, the tedious jigsaw puzzle relieved me. The unearthly head and neck aches made me transfer my attention from the gluttonous entity (by now you should note that I am just entity-ifying an uneasy feeling).

My mother spoiled the novel and told me
that Gatsby was a gigolo. Oh well, the
suspense of learning this in the novel
still stands, I guess.

I am currently reading Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude and Melville's Moby Dick. I am juggling these novels because of mood and how I can't seem to concentrate on one book despite my odd ritual of finishing Murakami's Kafka on the Shore a second time and doing it to initiate a momentum. I miss my movies and have been 2 days without them and this is because of my TV series marathons. My summer has some spice in it, at least.

If you've read Kafka on the Shore, you'd know what this
picture entails.

Road Trips and Journeys

"I'm going to paraphrase Thoreau here... rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth." - Christopher McCandless ("Into the Wild", Dir. Penn, 2007)

"Into the Wild" follows the 2 year journey of a fresh college graduate named Christopher McCandless who gives up his $24000 savings in order to go forth to the wilderness and find the "truth" that he believes the poisoned civilized society has forgotten. All this inspired by Tolstoy and other favorite writers of his. In this journey to Alaska, he meets several people who change his life and in turn, he changes theirs. Once he reaches Alaska and starves, he realizes that he was far away from what he was actually looking for.

Forgive my vagueness but if I were more specific, I would spoil the good film. I found that a lot of heart was poured into this. First, the very context of the film is compelling: a young man setting out on an adventure for freedom from the poisons of civilization. It is also very insightful and real. Second, the style and direction has a lot of vision and passion and all this is strikingly obvious. Third, it evokes reflection. I now understand why this film is listed in the 1001 Moves You Have To Watch Before You Die.

Somehow I would like to do the same. I would love to take a road trip to nowhere or a journey to a far-off land to breathe the fresh air and just break free from the bars of our overly-developed society--the delusional society with the created fantasies that creates a hell and heaven for particular kinds of people. This could so easily be done if I had the willpower and the knowledge to drive but doing so would be far too idealistic and selfish. I agree with Christopher when he says that experiences are the core of mans' spirit. In lieu of the idealistic adventure, though, I believe that people have their own preferences to take into account and what they want to achieve in their lives. The beauty of life and free will is that we are given the opportunities for direction. Experiences could range from wilderness exploring to purely intellectual activities and I believe we have the choice to pick from this array.

A refreshing trip would not be bad, though. I would like to take a car and just road trip somewhere far away and breathe. Movies like this respond to films like Revolutionary Road and American Beauty. Some people need to step out and just breathe.

With that in mind, let me quote a few lines from Tracy Chapman's Fast Car:

You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere  

Anyplace is better
Starting from zero got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
But me myself I got nothing to prove 

I want a ticket to anywhere

I am the kind of person who needs to suck the air in before I could be emotionally functional. And I constantly need that sense of direction and willpower. All of that boils to one thing: leaps of faith. I am sounding like a mixture between a self-help book and an inspirational book.

Let me end with this quote from the movie:

"When you want something in life, you just gotta reach out and grab it." - Christopher McCandless

Fantasies and Kissing Scenes

Our generation of preteens and teenagers who are inexperienced in the area of love and relationships are immersed into this dream. This hard-hitting fantasy of guys running after trains to stop their beloveds from leaving or other guys kissing their girls under the pouring rain with a crowd of football fans watching them (argh and Breakfast At Tiffany's (Edwards, 1961) was the very best at the kissing-in-the-rain scene). These heroic measures are supposed to show how far one would go for the one they love but I am astounded by they influence young people to set their standards high and hope for a Prince Charming.

After major farce and the usual blah of teen romcom, I admit
this scene would make girls around scream...but c'mon!

Kissing scenes are supposed to be a part of the story. They are supposed to be in the flux of the story. In teen rom-coms, I've noticed, they have been serving as climaxes (well, at least as far as how weighty the effect of the scene is concerned)--probably to show that the couple finally unites but of course, this should not be the end-all-be-all. The scene as a tool to make the plot richer and to expound on whatever the theme is has just been an auxiliary to make adolescents and young adults frantic. I admit, I need to watch more rom-coms of today and find a more accurate perspective but I believe that 60s romantic comedies are far wittier, more charming and more romantic. I personally would never forget Holly's letting go of her dreams which in the first place deluded her from reality, ate up her pocket money and strayed her away from what she actually needed in the first place. Her realization is the very peak of the plot. This all ends with the patient Paul and her kissing in the rain. A charming use of the kissing scene.

Breakfast At Tiffany's

As for me, I want something real. I do not want a relationship constantly embellished with heroic nonsense because I think that too much hype about that makes love lose all its purity. I do not want to dive into a relationship either. It feels more like a contract: an agreement wherein your actions are all obligatory. Obligation. I wouldn't want that to kill love. I want to think of love as completing the missing pieces. Something you need because it is the fuel that makes you alive (making your alone life only half-alive). It should feel like that. Being single could be "nice" and some people could probably live solely on that notion but the point of being with someone else is to need to be with that someone and by that, making your singularity incomplete; in a relationship or not. I quote,

"Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time. It's just a natural feeling." - Oshima in Kafka on the Shore (trans. 2005) by Haruki Murakami

 What I want is something completely natural and something that doesn't spring from simplistic societal conventions like dating. I'm tired of all that first base, second base, etc. crap. I want love and I want it in the purest sense. All of that just makes a relationship happen but not exactly springing anything. Everything has to go on its own course. I am tired of formalities and I wish that the most natural bonds would just arise without having to be labeled as unbecoming. Well, if I were to never find my missing piece, I would rather find a person who would make my offspring close-to-perfect (in my own relative sense, of course). Darn. Why can't we just live without having to follow the social code?

My attention turns to the old Philippine cinemas

http://senorenrique.blogspot.com/2008/04/quiapo-and-golden-age-of-filipino.html

This serves as a reminder for myself in case I pass by Recto again.

Oh Brother

(I feel so aesthetic this morning)

Little do I know about the world and that'll be so until I travel every single inch of it. Until I toil the icy lands and surf the raging seas will I ever trust that I am experienced. My soul is loud. My heart pounding. I am seventeen. My hormones shoot to every necessary micrometer of my body. All the sweet fantasies of adventure, love and dreams are high and hot and like boiling water will disperse to the air. The air will be thin and join the clouds above then fall into the seas then evaporate to the skies. The cycle goes on. Air is pregnantly symbolic.

My adventurous spirit is encased in this languid body. My youth scorches but the fires die even younger. The only source of difference would be my spirit--dysfunctional without a vitality in the flesh. The listlessness is my fault. I am my intrinsic enemy. If I were more expressive, everything would work. But, I am not. I do not have the drive and a once-full tank car could tragically become a now-empty steel case. I am too young to be my own enemy.

And get me started on the area of romance. Trapping myself in this mundane side of the world has made me hunger for it. If I link this to the physical delirium of a monthly cycle, the week before my predestined bleeding is the week of this hunger. My unpaired baby explodes once this famishment has not been satisfied. But I too believe that every being needs it. It is the sole invention that mankind needs. The whole of mankind is autistic. 

Now you, after reading this account, what is it that I lacked? Should I be ashamed of my carnal desires? Or that woeful spirit that was once alive and breathing as if it were carnal? I do not want anything. But I need some wanting. And I want some needing. And oh brother, I may fail at a poetic paragraph and a mixture between poetry and prose but the will to express is there. How I wish it would be consistent.




and it's still out of my reach...and it's still all of the things that I want in my life
Kids In Love by Mayday Parade

Cold Night

Summers are supposed to be hot if not warm. This year's summer is unbelievably cold. I am a pinch-close to shivering. Coldness adds a sufficient amount to the eerie atmosphere. Dogs howl away. Urban legends say that dogs can see what humans cannot and the howling could be a response to an unknown being to humans. That would be a paranoid thought. If this were a country that has four seasons, fog would create an ambiance. I wish we had owls here.

I have finished watching 19 episodes of the first season of Gilmore Girls. This snap-addiction is real bad. Waiting for my downloads to finish is a pain. While writing this blog, an hour and 7 minutes is required for episode 20 to finish. I am anxious about Dean's and Rory's situation. After an extremely sweet and romantic third month anniversary, Dean confesses to Rory that he loves her. Rory is taken aback and gives an awkward reply. I feel emphatic over this and I can't wait to finish the season to alleviate my addiction-caused pain. I plan to watch Supernatural because Dean's Actor, Jared Paledecki, is a lead character who is 10 years older than the Gilmore Girls supporting character and more mature. And I like abs. I could also use a bit of action.

I miss my movies immensely. Two days away from my babies is killing me. I also miss reading. I am annoyed at pleasant time-wasters. I feel a bit illiterate. I was about to spell 'illiterate' wrong. After the first season of Gilmore Girls, I will give myself a break from chick television (although Gilmore Girls is far beyond that category since it showcases much more than chick themes like fashion and chasing after guys) and watch my beautiful movies. I miss my Kubrick, Scorsese, Aronofsky, von Trier, Wilder and the rest. I wanted to give Fellini a try but the lack of subs has prevented me.

I miss Haruki Murakami. I feel that his surrealism is the only cure for my insomnia. I am not even sleepy right now and it is 1:42 AM. I should sleep before 2:30 AM.

Anyway, I would list down things and revise my Summer List but the verdict still stands: I will start checking items from my Summer List and have an awesome summer. Once that list is finished, I will give myself an award. Yippee.

"Life's Short. Talk Fast"

Allow me to rest from the R films and NC17 TV shows. I've been having an appetite for feel-good shows like Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory. I do not wish to eloquently review these shows but I plan to express my infatuation for them. Excuse my colloquialism and informality.

Modern Family is a satire of --as the name suggests-- the families of today. The modernity suggests a change from a preceding era of close-minded woe and unnecessary prejudice (haha). Which leads us to an interracial family and a homosexual family (2 of the 3 family units that comprise the Pritchett family) which were once unthinkable being incorporated into the show. This adds more laughs and fun to your everyday family (i.e. Gloria's desire to add some Columbian flavor to American holidays, Mitchell and Cam's cute gay-ness, etc.). I absolutely love the characters and how the whole Pritchett family makes me feel "all warm inside".

That baby doesn't look like Lily, though.

Then, there is The Big Bang Theory. Honestly, I am ambivalent to whether or not the "The" is actually part of the title. I would look it up but I plan to just write. The Big Bang Theory has a lot of high comedy in it. It has very intelligent dialog and the characters are incredibly funny while being extremely intelligent. TBBT follows two geniuses (Sheldon Cooper and Leonard Hofstadter), their beautiful neighbor (Penny) and their intellectual friends (Howard Wolowitz and Raj Koothrappali). I adore how every character has their own flavors.

Math, Science, History - unravel in the mystery.
It all started with a Big Bang! Hey!

I have the 2nd season to catch up with in Modern Family and I am tired of waiting for the torrent of the newest episode in The Big Bang Theory. Whilst waiting and catching up, I've come across a 2k family drama whose first episodes charmed me.

Gilmore Girls is quite feel-good. I like its slow-paced plot and fast-paced dialog. It feels more realistic than fast-paced shows like Gossip Girl and 90210 whose storylines seem to add drugs and sex out of thin-air because the writers experience some perennial writer's block (and have you noticed how romantic pairings just pop up?). I also adore how fresh and honest the show feels compared to the programs of today. I could use a heartwarming mother-daughter story right now. Also, it features some of the hottest guys in television history like Chad Michael Murray and Milo Ventimiglia--in his young hot days (landi mode: on).

The show's tagline is: "Life's Short. Talk Fast". It reminds me of those inspirational posters--the kinds that have words like "HONESTY" then a tagline goes under it with a smaller font. At first sight, it reminded me of those posters and I felt dragged back to my Barbie-playing days wherein those posters were trendy. I feel weirdly nostalgic.

See how heartwarming it is? :D

It is the second week of Summer vacation and I plan to take things one at a time. I am going to LTO tomorrow to get myself a Student's Driver's License and after which, I shall apply in A1 driving. I do hope that my left eye will get treated completely. I wouldn't want to destroy anyone's car. But, oh!, the excitement. Being able to drive could mean freedom and a symbol for my transition to independence and adulthood. I like the feeling of looking forward to something. However, I am a bit disappointed in myself because I haven't finished any books. I've read half of "History of Morals: A Survey of Sexual Behavior Through the Ages" by James Graham-Murray and the book was 3/5 an inch thick. I wanted to clean out my closet as well but I haven't started. I shall not perpetually tread in this road. Anyhow, if I were to speak of summer lists, I am glad to say that I have finished 20 movies so far and I have unchecked several items from the "1000 Movies You Have To Watch Before You Die" list.

Anyway, "Life's Short. Talk Fast." I want to be able to enjoy the little moments in life while persevering to be a Renaissance woman. But lo, that term is out-dated and the Renaissance was long ago. Let me be the New Age woman then. But I feel such pressure. Good thing I'm just 17. I can catch up on Science and the Arts. I am young and still idealistic, anyway.