I have an imp for a teacher

So Myats has a devil for a sister, and though Ms Ranada is devilishly cheeky, she's not that feisty. So she's an imp. And she's sent me to thesis hell.

Ok, so I admit, the thesis proposals were corny, and I wasn't pitching them very enthusiastically. She asked me why I wasn't doing anything about advertising, saying my strengths were in creative conceptualization anyway. I told her I'd rather get into the movie industry after graduation than the ad industry. She told me to make a production. I dunno why I said yes. I dunno why I showed her the movie concept I pitched to Miss Marya. I dunno what I was thinking.

Stupid stupid stupid girl. Where in all 7 circles of hell are you going to find the moolah?!?!?

I could just change the concept and think of something that would require as little money as possible, but I'm stuck in the story, and my brain won't allow me to think of anything else in the context of movie material.

Cripes.

The movie concept's entitled "Bida complex", and plays at Philippine movie cliche's. And when you do a parody, it should at least reach the level of what it is you're parodizing in terms of cinematography at least. What do I know?!? I'd seen enough of real production to know that I don't know crap about commercial film production. And if I'm going to defend my thesis the same time my classmates do, I have to start looking for Producers nao.

Half of me wants to do the project, and half of me is telling me if I do accomplish it, it'll be mediocre, so it's better if I don't to escape the probability of getting embarassed big time.

Hay inay, bakit ka ba nanganak ng babaeng ambisyosa't nagsasalita bago mag-isip?

~~~

Cook Out updates (or at least what I know):

>The Logo is in the drawing board, and we've commished Ate Al (artistmonk) to do it
>The Program has been drawn up, and tradition and margin for errors have been given the highest priority.
>Dama de Noche will be playing, cept not as competitors, but as a guest band.

Ang alamat ni Maria de Cacao

There is a Maria story in almost every Region in the Philippines. Almost everywhere,the legend is that she's a beautiful stately lady with fair skin and long long locks who speaks in Spanish. She lives alone on a mountain and lends people her cutlery, gowns, golden combs, etc etc. She's harvests cacao ang delivers them on her Spanish galleon to different parts of the Philippines. She is known to live in waterfalls and other places.

The reality is (in my mind) that she is actually the Queen of a Chocolate Conglomerate, is terribly terribly obsessed with the aesthetic and wants to live in a world full of finery and luxury (wc is why she lends gowns and cutlery to the natives of the lands she abuses of their free resources, she hopes she gets invited to fine dinners and parties just like back in sweet home mother Spain). She has found out the secret to longevity and to evarlasting byuuuteee: Not too much sun and hours and hours of sleep (which is why she's seldom seen), and a top secret chemical that comes from the skin of cacao (I just came up with that on the fly). She parks her galleon in the crests of Waterfall formations and actually uses super advanced technology (she stole from Lemurian civilization) to make her galleon invisible AND flexible (to fit arrow rivers), not to mention uber powerful (which explains why it goes upstream to the waterfalls). She's also a PETA sponsor (she has her own Natural sanctuary in Makiling), and she a little too vain for her own good (she sets up "apparitions" in different parts of the world and basks in worship)

Idol nako si Maria.

~~~

Gais. I have no idea how all of you got here, or why you're even taking a speculative fiction post seriously. If you're all here for homework, go to a library for facts (and correct grammar and correct spelling). You won't get that from some ditzy girl's blog. I repeat: this is in no way an academic post, and you cannot expect me to make you copypasta for filipino fables class or whatever. (edit: feb 27 2012)

Also, thanks for the lulz.

It

...isn’t perfect, but it’s gone past the point where words sound hollow and unimportant. Words give it different shades of meaning, and there are just some things words are not for. This is one of them. If I were to show you what I mean, I’d give you a painting, and you still wouldn’t understand.

I’d give you the Inverness, with its valleys of purple and its mists of gluttonous incense.

But that is just one painting. There are so many others. The Inverness is too depressing. But I have used the Inverness as an example because it is impossible. It is an idea of a painting and not one in actuality. That is what I mean when I will give you a painting.

So we go back to words. I would give you a word to describe it, but it has been misused too much that its meaning has become vague. SO I will refrain from misleading you by giving you the word. The usage of the word in this narrative might cloud your judgment about this monologue anyway.

I said it was impossible, I said it was ideal, and I also said it was not perfect. This is because in my opinion, all that is considered perfect becomes tainted eventually.

It is something that has caused me to dwell into myself and study It, trying to decipher its nuances. I’d discovered it causes me to think differently, to consider other options, to wonder about going out of my way. It causes me to break away from my laziness. Otherwise I’d just be sitting here.

It has drifted beyond the surface of my being, that if you looked at me, you would no longer notice its presence. It has grown deep within me, like a root that ruins the rock yet beatifies it with meaning.

It is idle for most of the time, a welcome poison in my veins, but at certain circumstances, it leaps and takes hold of me, and I no longer own my body. That is the part of it that the world chuckles and nods to, but otherwise it is more than that.

And at times I tire of it, just like I tire of almost everything I have grown accustomed to. But it wrestles with me and mocks me, and shows me who is boss. And every time, I succumb and agree that I am master, and I let it happen to me.

Digression

During Ate Chloe's stay in UPD for summer class, she had a run in with the typical modern Dillimanian. She got onto a Toki and ended up listening to two kikays blathering about boys, cars and money, in "Conyo" (Taglish). She talked about said experience with another Super Senior, who told her there were actually tons of kids like those these days in UPD, and that the image UPD projects through the Collegian is a lie. A concrete example would have to be how people still wore slippers to school, except these days, their slippers' cost as much as a week's meal (for me at least).

While she was telling us about the kikays, I remembered Sam and I had a conversation about boys and cars too, in a mixture of english and cebuano to boot. And though we do like to dress up when we're in the mood, we do not wear havaianas (they're not as gahi as my TWO's, so meh :P).

A private conversation about a guy friend's new chevy doesn't have to mean these girls are shallow and that's all they ever talk about. It is kinda hard to speak straight English or Filipino or Cebuano when you find shifting lingual gears too much effort when you're just gossiping and you've grown up thinking in both languages.

And though I may rant about instant assumption and hasty generalization over here where I can lay my thoughts out without being interrupted, I do agree that UP today is lackluster compared to a few years back. There was just somethng about school that made your blood boil in the past. UP made me care about a lot of things I didn't give a rat's ass about back in HS. But that was only because I was actually curious. These days, most UPians I get to talk to only care about making the grade and passing their scholarship quotas.

When asking for identity info from a stalker the other day, he said his student number dates back to "When UP was still cool".*

So UP isn't as cool as it was before. Sucks right? Though we may reminisce about the good old days, it'd be foolish to try to bring it back the way it used to be. Different approaches must be taken, isn't that what being radical is supposed to be about? Being up to the times?

I am not saddened by the death of UP Culture. I am challenged with defining the new paradigm of "UP Culture". In a campus as small, yet as potentially volatile as UP Cebu, it's so easy to make a difference.

If anyone wants this generation to care again, one needs to remember they're dealing with a different generation. A different generation calls for a different approach.

But I'm not saying sitting around and laughing and calling yourself a "family" (ala brady bunch) is going to work when it comes to having people care about the rest of the world. I'm just saying we can't expect people to keep falling for the same old tricks, specially because we 90's kids are the TV generation. We have short attention spans and sth.

I like to ramble when I'm sleepy. You can go over the entire thing and replace "UP Culture" (or the idea of it for that matter) with anything that you feel is digressing today. Try Dunkin Donuts for starters. Or the dichotomy of Bago (I wish Pangs and Jun were on Multiply, only they'd get this joke...)

*Leche... kinsay nanghatag ug number nako to someone with a student number that starts with 98?!? The jerk called me "zwiti"!!! :barf:

Out of order

Dar2x, one of my multiply contacts, posted about her schedule being mucked up by the system, so I had to go check my own.

CRS strikes again. The PE subject I preenlisted for is out. No badminton, no swimming classes that fit into my sched, and absolutely no arnis. Crappiola. All the dangerous ball sports are available this sem, and unfortunately for me, I can't skip on PE again this time.

Then there's the part about non-froshes being unable to preenlist for NSTP. What's up with that? Does that mean I still have to add mat?

But I'm actually looking forward to classes. Most of my classmates are getting misty eyed about it being their last, while I'll be staying put for another year (providing I don't botch things up).

~~~

Faith got me a shirt yesterday, with an Out of Order stamped across the chest. You rarely find really clever lines on shirts these days, even though they're being manufactured by the thousand by brands like "Artwork", "Bleach", "Digeo", etc etc. The lines you find on shirts these days are usually corny, or crass. Sometimes they're just words on cloth. Or I could be wrong, and the shirt line's implication is far too deep, its humor escapes me.

Out of order. Can't piss here. Can't take a dump here. Not available. Not applicable. Broken. Destroyed. Dysfunctional. Chaotic. In other words, it says there's just something wrong with the person wearing this shirt. So it's either you back off, or you laugh.

If you think about it, it kinda spoils the message that the shirt's a little to snug around the curves.

It also strikes me as somewhat poserish to have to project to the world that you're bad news. Why not let them decide? If you really are traumatic, why not have them find out and experience trauma for themselves? A little dirt is good for the immune system. If we all wore signs that told people what sort of person they were dealing with, where's the point in engaging in conversation to know more about people? What ever happened to good old interaction? What are we so afraid of?

Signs can be deceptive. What's with all these labels? What's with all this propaganda? Who're we all fooling?

But then again, witty shirts always make good conversation starters. Lecheng commercialism.

As a conclusion to this psuedo rant, I'd like to annouce that I've been tasked to write an article on emo culture. Lol. If you know any who're high and proud with the label, I'd love to meet them.