that I'm celebrating my blog's first anniversary this month!
Here's to more (and, hopefully, better) entries and more time to write them!
Arrggh!
And, yes, more bloggers to stalk!
Yey!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Question: Why did Alfred burn Rachel's note to Bruce Wayne?
Yup, haven't gotten over The Dark Knight yet. I do have an answer, just wanted to throw out the question for the sake of saying it out loud--or writing it down--and giving it some semblance of permanence.
It's a sad affair, what Bruce and Rachel had.
It's a sad affair, what Bruce and Rachel had.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Fussing Over "The"
Two days ago, I found myself in the middle of a debate, the source of the conflict being the title of the latest Batman movie.
I was raving about how wonderful The Dark Knight was and one co-worker (a guy named Wowoo) corrected me. "Shan, it's Dark Knight. There's no The."
I, of course, took a break from my raving and became quiet for a while. Then Wendell, another co-worker, seconded his statement.
I was frowning by then.
No, no, no, no. It's The Dark Knight.
No, there's no The.
And so on.
They were laughing at me. Those who overheard were amused. What's the fuss? they asked. It's the same old thing.
But I knew better. It wasn't the same.
I wasn't one to back away from "fights" like this. I once won a hundred bucks in a bet with a colleague over the words "anarchy" and "archaic." I knew I was sure about The Batman thing and I wasn't about to give up. But I knew I needed concrete, incontestable proof. And I was going to get one.
The next day, I approached my worthy opponents (separately, so the confrontation had to be done twice) and told them in a firm, solemn voice that I had done a lot of research (a tv documentary, a magazine review and a blog entry written by a credible, established writer named Luis Katigbak) and I had irrefutable proof that the movie's title was The Dark Knight. With a The, not without.
It might have been the mention of my sources, or the earnestness in my tone, but they clearly admitted defeat when one of them said, "really? But I thought it was... oh, well. Okay. So it's The Dark Knight, then" and the other said, "I knew that. It was Wowoo who was insisting it's Dark Knight."
Another battle has been won.
Let's move on to the next.
I was raving about how wonderful The Dark Knight was and one co-worker (a guy named Wowoo) corrected me. "Shan, it's Dark Knight. There's no The."
I, of course, took a break from my raving and became quiet for a while. Then Wendell, another co-worker, seconded his statement.
I was frowning by then.
No, no, no, no. It's The Dark Knight.
No, there's no The.
And so on.
They were laughing at me. Those who overheard were amused. What's the fuss? they asked. It's the same old thing.
But I knew better. It wasn't the same.
I wasn't one to back away from "fights" like this. I once won a hundred bucks in a bet with a colleague over the words "anarchy" and "archaic." I knew I was sure about The Batman thing and I wasn't about to give up. But I knew I needed concrete, incontestable proof. And I was going to get one.
The next day, I approached my worthy opponents (separately, so the confrontation had to be done twice) and told them in a firm, solemn voice that I had done a lot of research (a tv documentary, a magazine review and a blog entry written by a credible, established writer named Luis Katigbak) and I had irrefutable proof that the movie's title was The Dark Knight. With a The, not without.
It might have been the mention of my sources, or the earnestness in my tone, but they clearly admitted defeat when one of them said, "really? But I thought it was... oh, well. Okay. So it's The Dark Knight, then" and the other said, "I knew that. It was Wowoo who was insisting it's Dark Knight."
Another battle has been won.
Let's move on to the next.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Answers
I often find myself caught off-guard by the questions people ask; mainly because a) I am, by nature, absent-minded and almost always adrift on some invisible cloud, or b) it is the nature of the questions themselves (not your average "how are you?" or "what's your favorite color?" sort) that get the wheels in my head to turn, and I mean, really turn.
Here are three actual examples (I've taken the liberty of answering them in this blog. Sad to say, I wasn't able to answer all of them during the time they were thrown at me. A blank stare was the most they got. Or, a puzzled frown, if they were lucky.)
1. Do you prioritize building relationships? (this question was from Sheila)
As a rule, no. I generally veer away from getting up-close and personal, be it with a colleague, a boss, an acquaintance, or a friend. Don't get me wrong, I do have friends, but generally, very few (and I mean less than a handful) of them are who I might call "close" friends. I put up a wall or, if I was unable to put up that wall at the start either because I was too busy or unaware, then I detach myself. In retrospect, this is something I've been doing since childhood. Practice makes perfect, as they say; so now, I could say that I've mastered the art.
Well, almost.
2. Tell me one weird thing you do when you get home. (from Wowoo)
Until now, I am drawing a blank. I don't have any unusual habits. So, this question is apparently useless. But interesting. I could probably try to come up with a list of weird habits, decide which one is the most unusual, and then put it into practice.
3. Is this what you really want to do? (pertaining to my line of work--several people have asked me this)
Truth be told, no, and there are so many reasons why. Among them are the following: a) the stress level is extremely high; b) I have to smile and appear agreeable even when I don't feel like it, which means I have to keep in check my moodiness and tendency to sulk and brood--which is very difficult to do because those things are second nature to me; c) my job involves a lot of critical decision-making and it just drives me nuts, at times; d) I go berserk when I get confronted with numbers and excel sheets; e) I seldom get the sleep that each of us rightfully deserves and needs; and f) I haven't read a single book in ages!
I could go on ranting but I'll stop, at this point. As the wise say, count your blessings, so, despite the complaints, I am thankful that I have a job. Which, come to think of it, is not such a bad one, after all.
(And here, folks, you can see the many colorful ways in which the female mind works.)
*My eyelids are drooping. Will turn in now. Good night.
Here are three actual examples (I've taken the liberty of answering them in this blog. Sad to say, I wasn't able to answer all of them during the time they were thrown at me. A blank stare was the most they got. Or, a puzzled frown, if they were lucky.)
1. Do you prioritize building relationships? (this question was from Sheila)
As a rule, no. I generally veer away from getting up-close and personal, be it with a colleague, a boss, an acquaintance, or a friend. Don't get me wrong, I do have friends, but generally, very few (and I mean less than a handful) of them are who I might call "close" friends. I put up a wall or, if I was unable to put up that wall at the start either because I was too busy or unaware, then I detach myself. In retrospect, this is something I've been doing since childhood. Practice makes perfect, as they say; so now, I could say that I've mastered the art.
Well, almost.
2. Tell me one weird thing you do when you get home. (from Wowoo)
Until now, I am drawing a blank. I don't have any unusual habits. So, this question is apparently useless. But interesting. I could probably try to come up with a list of weird habits, decide which one is the most unusual, and then put it into practice.
3. Is this what you really want to do? (pertaining to my line of work--several people have asked me this)
Truth be told, no, and there are so many reasons why. Among them are the following: a) the stress level is extremely high; b) I have to smile and appear agreeable even when I don't feel like it, which means I have to keep in check my moodiness and tendency to sulk and brood--which is very difficult to do because those things are second nature to me; c) my job involves a lot of critical decision-making and it just drives me nuts, at times; d) I go berserk when I get confronted with numbers and excel sheets; e) I seldom get the sleep that each of us rightfully deserves and needs; and f) I haven't read a single book in ages!
I could go on ranting but I'll stop, at this point. As the wise say, count your blessings, so, despite the complaints, I am thankful that I have a job. Which, come to think of it, is not such a bad one, after all.
(And here, folks, you can see the many colorful ways in which the female mind works.)
*My eyelids are drooping. Will turn in now. Good night.
Friday, July 18, 2008
THE DARK KNIGHT is The Joker's Movie
If the mask fits..
Heath Ledger's performance in The Dark Knight has ensured the gloriousness of his exit from this world. His death had all the elements of tragedy in it (a failed relationship, depression, an alleged drug overdose), but the passion--and authenticity--with which he tackled the role of theJoker, neatly gathered the pieces of his life together into one seamless, unforgettable whole.
His portrayal of the Joker will definitely be one tough act to follow: woe to him who dares try his hand at playing the deranged blackguard in future Batman films.
Snug as a hand in a custom-made glove--the perfection with which Batman's mask hides his persona is the same perfection with which Heath Ledger fits into the Joker.
Ledger completely disappears into the Joker.
And, in acting, that is the true measure of credibility, in the same way that madness is one sure consequence of brilliance. For the Joker is mad and brilliant, from the logic behind and the atrocity on his painted face to the cunning and grand systematization of his crimes. The Joker, a creature of contradictions, is representative of the grotesque that is evil and yet wise, making perfect sense in all his incoherence.
Ledger has, by all means, upstaged Christian Bale in the film, though to give the latter credit he so rightfully deserves, he has proven, once again, that the role of Batman/Bruce Wayne is rightfully his, if we are to glean this from the now slightly aged, harder features that fit right into the mask and doesn't disappoint once it's taken off, the brooding stance, and the undeniable current of power in his acting.
One gets the sense that his (Batman's, or Wayne's) very presence is, in itself, a contradiction of his longing to stay in obscurity. He is a troubled man, perhaps even as troubled as the Joker, although he has channeled this conflict within himself into a compulsion opposite to that of his nemesis'. He "completes" the Joker's persona (I am aware that it should be the other way around, but I do have a point), underlining the villain's outrageousness and perfect ease in the limelight (albeit for corrupt, deplorable reasons) with his own taciturn but essential (hey, he's the superhero here!) role as the Dark Knight.
The "upstaging," then, must have been deliberate. And this, I think, is the point I'm trying to make.
Heath Ledger's performance in The Dark Knight has ensured the gloriousness of his exit from this world. His death had all the elements of tragedy in it (a failed relationship, depression, an alleged drug overdose), but the passion--and authenticity--with which he tackled the role of theJoker, neatly gathered the pieces of his life together into one seamless, unforgettable whole.
His portrayal of the Joker will definitely be one tough act to follow: woe to him who dares try his hand at playing the deranged blackguard in future Batman films.
Snug as a hand in a custom-made glove--the perfection with which Batman's mask hides his persona is the same perfection with which Heath Ledger fits into the Joker.
Ledger completely disappears into the Joker.
And, in acting, that is the true measure of credibility, in the same way that madness is one sure consequence of brilliance. For the Joker is mad and brilliant, from the logic behind and the atrocity on his painted face to the cunning and grand systematization of his crimes. The Joker, a creature of contradictions, is representative of the grotesque that is evil and yet wise, making perfect sense in all his incoherence.
Ledger has, by all means, upstaged Christian Bale in the film, though to give the latter credit he so rightfully deserves, he has proven, once again, that the role of Batman/Bruce Wayne is rightfully his, if we are to glean this from the now slightly aged, harder features that fit right into the mask and doesn't disappoint once it's taken off, the brooding stance, and the undeniable current of power in his acting.
One gets the sense that his (Batman's, or Wayne's) very presence is, in itself, a contradiction of his longing to stay in obscurity. He is a troubled man, perhaps even as troubled as the Joker, although he has channeled this conflict within himself into a compulsion opposite to that of his nemesis'. He "completes" the Joker's persona (I am aware that it should be the other way around, but I do have a point), underlining the villain's outrageousness and perfect ease in the limelight (albeit for corrupt, deplorable reasons) with his own taciturn but essential (hey, he's the superhero here!) role as the Dark Knight.
The "upstaging," then, must have been deliberate. And this, I think, is the point I'm trying to make.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
2008 Strat Plan
Am re-posting the Strat plan pictures (the ones I felt like salvaging, that is). Deleted the entry because I realized that I looked obscenely fat in some of the photos!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Rain, Rain, Go Away...
It's a cold, gray, rainy day.
It's been raining since yesterday. Last night, I swear, the wind was howling like crazy and the rain fell in torrents. It was like a night straight from Wuthering Heights. The inhospitable weather must've compounded Heathcliff's madness.
Weather like this also brings to mind the ending of Charlotte Bronte's Villette--an hour after finishing the book and I was still crying over poor Lucy Snowe's tragic, ironic fate.
Oh, well.
The rain does bring dismal, absurd thoughts.
What more, my legs and thighs are positively groaning in pain. I have bruises on my knees, as well. Last Saturday was probably the most rigorous pep squad practice we've had, since we started.
Anyway, just to comfort myself, my spoonful of sugar will be: burying myself underneath a warm blanket and watching Jay Leno's The Tonight Show until I fall asleep.
Am craving for a cup of steaming, hot coffee, but that might ward off the sleep I have to chase everyday. And am definitely not in the mood to go chasing (anyone or anything) today.
It's been raining since yesterday. Last night, I swear, the wind was howling like crazy and the rain fell in torrents. It was like a night straight from Wuthering Heights. The inhospitable weather must've compounded Heathcliff's madness.
Weather like this also brings to mind the ending of Charlotte Bronte's Villette--an hour after finishing the book and I was still crying over poor Lucy Snowe's tragic, ironic fate.
Oh, well.
The rain does bring dismal, absurd thoughts.
What more, my legs and thighs are positively groaning in pain. I have bruises on my knees, as well. Last Saturday was probably the most rigorous pep squad practice we've had, since we started.
Anyway, just to comfort myself, my spoonful of sugar will be: burying myself underneath a warm blanket and watching Jay Leno's The Tonight Show until I fall asleep.
Am craving for a cup of steaming, hot coffee, but that might ward off the sleep I have to chase everyday. And am definitely not in the mood to go chasing (anyone or anything) today.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Earl
When my brother and I were small, we'd do what most kids do: fight like cats and dogs. And, like how it is with small children, we'd make up after a teeny short while and go back to playing as if nothing happened. Before that, though, I'd be my usual sumbungera self and tell on my brother to our Dad with a bratty "Daddy, si Earl!"
Earl, though, would do nothing of the sort--a sure sign of guy-ness, even at a young age. I would always be the one crying when we fought. And he would give in once he sees the tears streaming down.
Earl had really nice hair when he was a kid. It was fine and straight and done in a bunot cut, which made him look like a cute little pixie. Add the round eyes, small nose and heart-shaped lips, and the pixie look is complete. He was a cute child, period. Yup, cuter then me. Plus, he was sociable, friendly and diligent, while I was sulky, withdrawn and a señorita.
Portents of things to come, you might say.
Fast forward to today:
Earl (who's two years younger than me) has become my Kuya. He plays the role to the hilt especially with our youngest brother, Otom, and he's doing a wonderful job. He's very mature for his age and has proven himself dependable and level-headed, a complete contrast to my fickle-minded, idealistic self. His scolding (done with lambing, of course), I realize, is just what I need whenever I find myself in the dumps and choose to wallow in my tears instead of dusting myself up and facing whatever it is I have to face. He would talk some sense into my head and then I'd feel better, stronger.
The last time we talked, I found myself feeling immensely better, and laughing at the fact that my brother and I have had a reversal of roles.
The respect would always be there, of course, and the love. The presence of these two have kept us bonded over the years and over the distances. Our parents brought us up in a way that family ties would always come first, not because it is an obligation, but because it is something that is second nature to us. Love each other, our Mom would always say. And don't ever fight over such a shallow thing as money, she would add.
Today is my brother's birthday. He is twenty-six years old (gosh, can you believe that?). I can hardly believe it myself. He used to be six, even sixteen, for goodness' sake.
Time flies awfully fast.
Earl, though, would do nothing of the sort--a sure sign of guy-ness, even at a young age. I would always be the one crying when we fought. And he would give in once he sees the tears streaming down.
Earl had really nice hair when he was a kid. It was fine and straight and done in a bunot cut, which made him look like a cute little pixie. Add the round eyes, small nose and heart-shaped lips, and the pixie look is complete. He was a cute child, period. Yup, cuter then me. Plus, he was sociable, friendly and diligent, while I was sulky, withdrawn and a señorita.
Portents of things to come, you might say.
Fast forward to today:
Earl (who's two years younger than me) has become my Kuya. He plays the role to the hilt especially with our youngest brother, Otom, and he's doing a wonderful job. He's very mature for his age and has proven himself dependable and level-headed, a complete contrast to my fickle-minded, idealistic self. His scolding (done with lambing, of course), I realize, is just what I need whenever I find myself in the dumps and choose to wallow in my tears instead of dusting myself up and facing whatever it is I have to face. He would talk some sense into my head and then I'd feel better, stronger.
The last time we talked, I found myself feeling immensely better, and laughing at the fact that my brother and I have had a reversal of roles.
The respect would always be there, of course, and the love. The presence of these two have kept us bonded over the years and over the distances. Our parents brought us up in a way that family ties would always come first, not because it is an obligation, but because it is something that is second nature to us. Love each other, our Mom would always say. And don't ever fight over such a shallow thing as money, she would add.
Today is my brother's birthday. He is twenty-six years old (gosh, can you believe that?). I can hardly believe it myself. He used to be six, even sixteen, for goodness' sake.
Time flies awfully fast.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Nothing Beats the Oldies
Caught a couple of old musicals on the Turner Classic Movies channel last Sunday:
1) Easter Parade (1948)- which starred Judy Garland (as Hannah Brown) and Fred Astaire (Don Hewes). Irving Berlin's "It Only Happens When I Dance With you" is such a lovely song, and so is "A Fella With an Umbrella," light and funny and sung by a girl and a guy, meeting for the first time and walking under the rain, sharing an, um, umbrella.
Some interesting tidbits about this film: The role of Don Hewes was originally written for Gene Kelly; the movie was the only collaboration between Fred Astaire and Judy Garland; and another movie (The Barkeleys of Broadway) was planned out for them, however, Ginger Rogers had to take the place of Judy Garland. Cool story, huh?
2) An American in Paris (1951)- an Academy Award Best Picture Winner, with Leslie Caron (as Lise) and Gene Kelly (as Jerry Mulligan). Nothing could compare to "Our Love is Here to Stay." The Gershwins are such geniuses! The movie was Leslie Caron's debut into filmdom (she went on to play the title role in Gigi, some years later).
One of the film's highlights, aside from its score, is a 13 minute uninterrupted "dream ballet," (described as "pretentious" by some critics) which cost half a million dollars to produce! Was wondering if the dance scene was ever gonna end, the first time I watched it.
Wouldn't mind watching these films for the zillionth time, though. Makes me feel like a child again.
1) Easter Parade (1948)- which starred Judy Garland (as Hannah Brown) and Fred Astaire (Don Hewes). Irving Berlin's "It Only Happens When I Dance With you" is such a lovely song, and so is "A Fella With an Umbrella," light and funny and sung by a girl and a guy, meeting for the first time and walking under the rain, sharing an, um, umbrella.
Some interesting tidbits about this film: The role of Don Hewes was originally written for Gene Kelly; the movie was the only collaboration between Fred Astaire and Judy Garland; and another movie (The Barkeleys of Broadway) was planned out for them, however, Ginger Rogers had to take the place of Judy Garland. Cool story, huh?
2) An American in Paris (1951)- an Academy Award Best Picture Winner, with Leslie Caron (as Lise) and Gene Kelly (as Jerry Mulligan). Nothing could compare to "Our Love is Here to Stay." The Gershwins are such geniuses! The movie was Leslie Caron's debut into filmdom (she went on to play the title role in Gigi, some years later).
One of the film's highlights, aside from its score, is a 13 minute uninterrupted "dream ballet," (described as "pretentious" by some critics) which cost half a million dollars to produce! Was wondering if the dance scene was ever gonna end, the first time I watched it.
Wouldn't mind watching these films for the zillionth time, though. Makes me feel like a child again.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Back in the Habit
No, this isn't about Whoopi Goldberg or Sister Act, sorry.
This entry is about me. Like most of what's in this blog, duh-uh.
Anyway.
This pep squad thing has done more wonders for me than I thought it would. For one thing, it has brought back my running (as in the sport) days. I woke up really early this morning and, voila, my first thought was: I have gotta run today.
And run, I did.
All the stretching and warm-up and dancing we've been doing this past week have taken their toll on my muscles and bones--I'm now hankering for exercise.
Truth is, the first practice session was kind of a horrific thing for me. I was confident when I said yes to the organizers, trusting that my experience as a cheerleader in High School and my having run a 5-kilometer marathon in College would mean it'd be a piece of cake for me.
Oh, but I was mistaken.
My moves started out really rusty and my entire body screamed "pain!" for a whole week.
It still does, by the way, though it's more tolerable now. The reaction was just further proof of how badly out of shape I was.
Or that my age is starting to show.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'd be able to keep this exercise thing going on.
For now, that is.
This entry is about me. Like most of what's in this blog, duh-uh.
Anyway.
This pep squad thing has done more wonders for me than I thought it would. For one thing, it has brought back my running (as in the sport) days. I woke up really early this morning and, voila, my first thought was: I have gotta run today.
And run, I did.
All the stretching and warm-up and dancing we've been doing this past week have taken their toll on my muscles and bones--I'm now hankering for exercise.
Truth is, the first practice session was kind of a horrific thing for me. I was confident when I said yes to the organizers, trusting that my experience as a cheerleader in High School and my having run a 5-kilometer marathon in College would mean it'd be a piece of cake for me.
Oh, but I was mistaken.
My moves started out really rusty and my entire body screamed "pain!" for a whole week.
It still does, by the way, though it's more tolerable now. The reaction was just further proof of how badly out of shape I was.
Or that my age is starting to show.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'd be able to keep this exercise thing going on.
For now, that is.