31-aug-05

A New Hope

May mas malalim pa sa pagkakaibigan, hindi ba? Kayo iyon. ~ Chard

If there is one thing in my life right now that I'm doing right, it's my work in my organization. And reading what the applicants have written about us [an example above] and how much they have come to love what we do and what we stand for gives me new hope and a certain kind of fulfillment. It reminds me that no matter how disappointing some things (and people) can be, there are always those that surprise you beyond your wildest expectations.

~~~

Love Poem no. 4

[*rolls eyes* Rainer Maria Rilke once advised a young poet not to write about love. Oh well, here goes another one. For the others, see inertia.]

I look for you
More often than I should
Even as I sit here, hesitating.
The door opens and closes
once in a while
and each time my head turns in expectation.
Perhaps I would have persisted
had you been there.
But you're not.

That's okay. I didn't love you
that much
And even if I did
Every second that hurried by without you
took away each new beginning
still simmering in its possibility.

Whatever you are doing now
I hope you're happy.

There.
I said it.
This time
I'll mean it.

~~~

Someone Else's Secret

I left this off for a while because i didn't know exactly how to write it and well, here it is:

When I was in second grade, I was going to receive an award for academic excellence in a ceremony wherein the student walks up the stage with a parent to receive the award. Anyway, I lined up the side of the stage and waited for one of my parents to show up. When my mom came, I quickly shoved her away, saying "Why you? I want daddy! Get daddy!" My mom was so surprised and embarassed that she immediately returned to her seat and asked my dad to accompany me instead. There, in her seat, she watched me go up the stage with my dad while she cried silently. Up to this day, my mom couldn't help but cry every time she remembers that incident.

My mom never recovered and every year after that I earned an award, she would sit in the audience and make no more attempts to go up the stage with me. Until finally, during my High School Graduation, I persuaded my father to act like he was feeling bad so that my mom would go up the stage instead. Which she did. But I don't know if that was enough for her to forgive me.

~~~

Tomorrow, Tomorrow...

I don't exactly love it because it's our tutorials for our experimental class (where we show here what we've done already) and I'm crossing my fingers. Wish me luck...

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29-aug-05

Future Prospects

I had a couple of busy days, starting off with my organization's sponsored ACLE in UP and then my organization's Applicants Awards Night and then my Midterms for my Journalism 101 class [the first exam I've taken after a century] and then a furious bout of editing [since I'm the only one who knows how to compile dvds] for my friends Experimental Film Exhibit in Future Prospects, an art gallery in Cubao where their professor invited people from the industry to view and critique their work.

Sitting there on the wooden floor, my butt and back aching, watching as my friends went up one by one to defend their films and feeling proud of them for being able to speak up in spite of their fear, I thought of the future we face not only because our looming thesis but because our future IS just right around the corner and we're getting there really, really fast.

As I told my friend Leo while we were discussing a bad-mannered, sullen counter girl (who glared at me when I told her to leave the vegetables off my cheeseburger) in Tropical Hut: "What if we end up just like her?"

It scares me more than I'd like to admit, especially now when I can't even lift a finger to fix my life. I find myself sleeping a lot and staring at the ceiling (or at blinking cursors) more often nowadays. And I hate everything that I do because they seem so mediocre.

I think I've lost my joy. Do you know where I can find some for sale?

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22-aug-05

How to Make a Reality TV Show

Get five pretty girls to wear short skirts,

And five pretty boys to take off their shirts,

And two ugly people just so it's fair.

Make sure there's enough publicity

While trying to contrive a love story

And choose a host with perfect hair.

Keep on repeating it's reality

Enough to believe the fantasy

That's TV.

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21-aug-05

Things I Have to Do But Am Not Doing

1. Finish my Experimental Film by D-day (otherwise known as Thursday) and hope and pray that Ma'am Anne likes it enough to let me stay in her class.

2. Write a story for my Creative Writing 100 workshop. Write anything that will redeem myself as a writer.

3. Write a better sequence treatment for my Thesis Proposal class. Consult my adviser about my thesis concept and see if he finally understands it.

4. Write a better sequence treatment for my Directing class.

5. Fix my academic life.

but in the meantime...

I stumbled on this poem while reading Neil Gaiman's journal (I stumble on a lot of things when I visit his site) and I just had to post it here because...wow...

Poem
Hugh Sykes Davies

In the stump of the old tree, where the heart has rotted out, there is a hole the length of a man's arm, and a dank pool at the bottom of it where the rain gathers, and the old leaves turn into lacy skeletons. But do not put your hand down to see, because

in the stumps of old trees, where the hearts have rotted out, there are holes the length of a man's arm, and dank pools at the bottom where the rain gathers and old leaves turn to lace, and the beak of a dead bird gapes like a trap. But do not put your hand down to see, because

in the stumps of old trees with rotten hearts, where the rain gathers and the laced leaves and the dead bird like a trap, there are holes the length of a man's arm, and in every crevice of the rotten wood grow weasel's eyes like molluscs, their lids open and shut with the tide. But do not put your hand down to see, because...

...in the stumps of old trees where the hearts have rotted out there are holes the length of a man's arm where the weasels are trapped and the letters of the rook language are laced on the sodden leaves, and at the bottom there is a man's arm. But do not put your hand down to see, because

in the stumps of old trees where the hearts have rotted out there are deep holes and dank pools where the rain gathers, and if you ever put your hand down to see, you can wipe it in the sharp glass till it bleeds, but you'll never want to eat with it again.

~~~

When I read poems like this, I feel ashamed to call myself a writer.

Ayn's reflection to herself: "very fishing..."

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15-aug-05

How's Your Hair?

Some Koreans are wondering why we Filipinos put so much importance on our hair. You only have to watch television for a few minutes and realize how many hair commercials exist (not to mention jingles). And it is true. Most Filipinos are obsessed with having perfect hair. And by perfect hair, I mean long, shiny, silky straight black hair.

As a girl who has had long, straight black hair all her life, I've always wanted to have bouncing curls, no matter what advertisements say. And it bothers me to see so many women with identical hair.

Society seems intent to make cardboard people out of all of us.

I, for one, don't intend to become one.

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12-aug-05

My Hands are Dirty and I Need Sleep

Spent the whole night trying to construct tables from styrofoam and cardboard, wrapping it with black cartolina and attaching fiery things a la Morpheus's coat.

The paint, unfortunately, has somehow found its way into most parts of my body and I'm too tired to start scraping it off.

I have 9 hours before my Production Design shoot and I still haven't done the storyboard or shot list yet.

Tick. Tock.

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10-aug-05

Sleeping Whatever

I used to be able to wake up at 3am everyday. Recently, I've found it extremely hard to do so, especially the past couple of days.

Like yesterday. For some reason, even though I dutifully slept at 10pm so I could get enough sleep and wake up early, I woke up at 9am instead and I saw my chances of catching up with my 8:30am CW100 class flying out the window.

And today, I was supposed to finally finish my 3D Production Design plate but once again, I woke up late. (I blame it on the Koreans really. They're so fun, I just couldn't leave their apartment till about 12mn.)

And now, it's 9:15am and I'm supposed to be in school. (Thankfully, not for class this time.)

If there is supposed to be an insight, I don't know what it is. I feel like Guido in Fellini's 8 1/2. Maybe creativity does stop when we forget how to love. But I can't continue on like this because I still have my THESIS to make [a ton of books fall down on me]. Oh well.

It's almost 10 o'clock. I really have to move on.

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6-aug-05

A Bunch of Babble

I tried the babelizer and this is what came up:

Some false ideas would wish to be explained and to be extended of the rest in a permanent method:

1) the Hong-Kong of the inflammation was not.

2) it is half of spold of the relative first both years old in the supervisor of the collection not with the F of the university. She was good (and full frequently) to the same station of the work, that
one that was similar razoavelmente of the time, that it was he.

3) sae normally ordered spontaneously not to finish it he with combust nevertheless all the marks, he, he stops the relation of conclusive transformation era.

4) it could not be the unexpected girl of whom Neil Gaiman's released to the modification the small wheel of the paper of the foot its course or the one that had suborned correctly the angel of the internal part of supplies.

5) decree to repair the relative walls of contatore of the cost of the title was, in the relative one to look like, practical most useless. It came up, flows so how much as he is possible, something, that caused headache everything the future.

6) 0ccasionally of the unverifiable joy, is for the branch, with which the blowings in the expensive outpost and the surface under possible and shouting towards outside and the risata the nervous one upset more.

8) it executes person therefore alcohol-ill frequently, poichè selects. And it does not disappear.

By the way, that is supposed to be my yearbook profile. (#7 could not be translated because it was badly written in Quenya Elvish.) If anyone can figure out what it originally says, contact me and I will make sure that you are rewarded satisfactorily.

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2-aug-05

?

My thesis proposal professor just told me that my thesis concept is interesting but too risky to make.

Now what kind of a comment is that? We slaved to learn for the past three years and when it's finally the time to prove something, to create something that is ours, to say something different, they tell us that it's too...risky?

Cut to 7 months later...the panel is sitting in front of you. They have just watched the film you painstakingly made. They look contemplative. Finally, someone speaks:

"You know, the problem with you is that you're playing it safe."

Sigh.

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31-jul-05

There Must Be More to Me Than Overused Cliches

I tried to write something today. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. I've been in a writing rut for about two years now. The last short story I wrote is dated May 8, 2005. Read it here. (Don't mind the title, it sucks.)

I won't call it a block because I've been able to write. My frustration is not the inability to write, it's just not being able to write as much as I used to or as good as I want to. And I thought listening to a little Tori Amos would help me but it didn't and I just ended up feeling sorry for myself because she writes such wonderful, beautiful music and all I can muster for the moment is some useless pop that goes oh, baby, baby...

People seem to think that I'm a deep person.

I feel I'm getting shallower every minute.

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28-jul-05

Quickie Post

The people who say that Film is easy, that all we film majors ever do is sit and watch movies, obviously never had to take any Experimental Film classes.

And there I was, sitting in class, my heart pounding (as it usually does) and my stomach churning while my professor said that she will announce the names of people whose concepts are already okay.

She opened her small record book then suddenly said "Dimaya..." and the first thing I thought was "what?"

I never dreamed that my concept was anywhere near okay because just two weeks ago, my paper came back to me filled with red criss-crosses and remarks everywhere. My classmates told me later that the surprise did indeed register on my face. I can still hardly believe it now. I wanted to jump for joy right then and there.

At least all I have to do now is shoot the irritating thing and hopes she likes it.

And now that my expe conceptualization days are over, I have time to move on to other subjects, like my Creative Writing class where I'm supposed to pass a story proposal by tonight but I haven't written one word of it yet. The truth is, I still have absolutely no idea what to write.

I will probably never get a good night's sleep until I graduate.

Oh well, back to the proposal.

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26-jul-05

Just Plain Prejudice

I spent my weekend watching BBC's Pride and Prejudice for the nth time, never mind that it's two dvds long (about 5 hours.)

I found myself watching it because I basically had nothing better to do (actually, I did but I prefer to deny that) and because 5 hours of Colin-Firth-with-the-sexy-shoulders-cute-british-accent-and-smoldering-eyes is not so hard to take. Another reason is because my dear, ignorant i-shall-not-mention-which-subject professor commented that Jane Austen only ever wrote loves stories.

He's just like the other i-also-shall-not-mention-which-subject professor who commented that Virginia Woolf made no new contributions to literature.

WHAT?

Let me say that again.

WHAT?

Spare me from the people who think that Dostoevsky and Tolstoy are the only people who were capable enough to write good literature. Mind you, these are the same people who used to lecture us on the sins of pretentiousness. They are right up there with that-person-who-didn't-watch-The-Lord-of-the-Rings-because-it-was-a-fad-and-she-only-watches-"art"-movies. And these are probably the same "intelligent" people who give me blank looks whenever I say I was named after Ayn Rand (yes, that's you, mr.-director-I-graduated-from-philosophy.)

Whatever.

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24-jul-05

Korean Culture

When Koreans offer you something, you find it hard to refuse.

First of all, they give new meaning to the word perseverance. They know how to hound a person (in a completely positive way.) Aside from that, there's that language barrier thing that prevents you from being fully understood. And you try to explain to them that no, you don't eat vegetables or no, you don't drink beer but they'll look so damn confused that you think what the hell and grab a fork and put the thing in your mouth and try to chew without cringing, swallow delicately and smile and give them a thumbs up while reaching for the nearest glass of water.

And if that doesn't work and they decide to ply you with even more undesired stuff, they'll say it's part of Korean culture and you just have to try it. And if you don't they give you that completely hurt look that makes you feel guilty.

But aside from that, they're extremely fun people and I love spending time with them.

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22-jul-05

The Case of the Missing Newspapers

Now I don't regularly read newspapers (apathetic, oblivious creature that I am) but some of my friends do. And since last week, everyone's been giving me Neil Gaiman articles that they come across and I've collected them and put them aside until I can read them properly.

While trying to deny that I had nothing left to say for my Experimental film concept, I took one from the pile and started reading and then when I finally realized that I had to go to UP for class, I folded it and carefully put them aside. I'm the type of person who always loses things and so I put it in a place where I knew it would be the first thing I'd see: my computer chair.

Coming home, I was tired so I went to my bedroom first. I only remembered the newspapers after I ate dinner. When I saw that Helen rearranged everything in the study room (again...but I can't really complain because my sister and I are terribly messy people) I asked her where she put them. She said she didn't remember any newspapers and they were probably somewhere in the piles of papers she put aside. So I searched for them, but it was not there. And I went up to my bedroom just in case, but it was not there. Finally, after looking everywhere I could have looked, I asked Helen if she could show me the garbage of the day.

I think fanaticism reaches a new level when one starts rifling through the garbage in search of some measly newspapers.

Well, they weren't there. And they're not anywhere which I find hard to believe because nothing can just disappear into thin air. So they're probably just somewhere in the house. As Delirium said something like this somewhere: "It's always in the last place you look."

~~~

I realized (while surfing in someone else's computer) that this blog doesn't look like it should (the way it looks in my computer) So anyway, I'll try to fix everything, hopefully.

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21-jul-05

Beauty and Brainlessness

It's 3am and as usual, I'm making concept papers. I just finished a sequence outline for my Directing class and now I'm just procrastinating but after this I'll get back to my Experimental concept.

Yesterday I had to get my Graduation Picture taken (because I'm part of the executive board of the Graduation Committee, I get everything free.) And I had no clear idea of what I wanted to do for my creative shot so I brought some of my favorite books with me (namely Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, Neil Gaiman's Endless Nights, Rilke on Love and Other Difficulties, Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare and the Collected poems of Anne Sexton, Bruno Bettelheim's Uses of Enchantment and biography of Francois Truffaut.)

I was running late care of laziness and an unfinished revision of my thesis proposal concept but I managed to get there ahead of the others. The make-up artist asked me if he could pluck my eyebrows . I said go ahead, do whatever you want (which I'm kinda regretting right now because without the make-up anymore I look like I only have half of each eyebrow.) He asked me how I wanted my hair and I said up in a half ponytail but he said it would be better if I left it down so I said, okay, do whatever you want.

I've never been the type who likes "girly" stuff (I hate brushing my hair even when it has grown too long and am now overdue for a haircut) but I won't lie, it felt good to have all that make-up on and not worry about how many pimples were now residing in my face because they were all concealed but I still won't go around wearing all that sticky stuff. Make-up can transform a person into someone glamorous but I still believe that people are truly more beautiful when they are natural.

By the way, I ended up posing with just the Neil Gaiman and Francois Truffaut books.

Speaking of, Neil's exhausted. (Mr Gaiman just dropped his cellphone in his scrambled eggs. He thinks it's time for bed now.) Poor guy, I miss him again. Oooh, can't afford any more distractions. Must get back to expe mode.

*Bittergrace is now in Expe mode (I wish.)

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18-jul-05

Speak-in-Tongues: An Afterword

I will not make pusok anymore because another made pusok already but I would just like to add that if you think we are so inferior then do not make gaya anymore. Invent your own dialect, you stupid you!

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18-jul-05

Not Quite Over

I'm still not over it. How can I be? I can't believe it's been a week already and I can't believe how fast time is moving forward. I need to catch up already.

Here's something my friend found in Philippine Star last saturday:

(panel 2 in english: oh no! Jay went out of the house early with another placard. Which rally will this activist go to? Makati? Mendiola?)

~~~

Our Creative Writing 100 assignment was to write a sample of horrible prose. Well, here's mine:

Not Another Love Story
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

When this definitive, absolute protagonist, this faultless sampling of manliness Juan Jesus Crisostomo first established his vehement gaze upon her, he irrevocably tacit the meaning of time halting, for there he was at present, located in the precipice of what poets and dreamers called love. He was ensnared in silent surveillance as the rest of the ignorant planet harried by him in slow activity, oblivious to the derailing event transpiring. Juan Jesus Crisostomo could ruminate of naught else but her and how he would follow her whither she went. For he knew now that as long as he respired the putrid air into his lungs and until he lay rotten beneath the bowels of this earth that he would love this ethereal vision, this perfect specimen of femininity situated afore him. There would befall the day, he would perceive the tinkled sound of her whispering those three immortal words to him while they were reclining replete in each others limbs while the stars plummet down from the sky. But for now he would have to be contented with gazing upon her behind the canopy of his heavy eyelids.

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16-jul-05

Speak-In-Tongues

So I went to the UP kanina for my 7am class and this person sent this bomb threat to ES and the ES made sumbong to the guard and the guard became alligated and then walkie-talkied the UP police and suddenly they were all there and they told us to leave the College of Mass Communication muna because they will be checking for bombs daw and we were like "yey! no class!"

Then the bomb squad came and we did not know that there was such a thing as a bomb squad in UP. But we were looking for a dog that will sniff for the bomb. But there was no dog. Not even a puppy. So they went alligating around Maskom for a few minutes and then they announced that there will be no classes for the whole day just to be sure.

And so after that we went to the CCP for the independent film congress. But when we arrived there, it was lunch break already and so we ate lunch first. Then we spent the next few hours sleeping in the theater because we were all so very pagod.

After that, the cinemasters were all so starstruck and kept on getting autographs from directors. But finally we could nina already. So we taxied from the CCP and now we will celebrate the Gavina's 21st birthday at my house. Because the people here always bentahosing my house. But I will not make pusok anymore.

I also told the Gavina that it was not because of the carmi martin that I lost my phone. It is because of the katangahan. Because if it was carmi martin then the CINEMA's orientation would not have gone so well.

And if you do not understand what I'm saying then do not alligate anymore. The Ayn Dimaya is only ayn dimaya when she is ayn dimaya. And when she is not ayn dimaya then she is not ayn dimaya. Okay?

P.S. The ma'am Anne made eks my expe concept again. Hmpft.

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14-jul-05

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For every piece of happiness there is equal and opposite unhappiness. I've been so happy the past couple of days. Happy and cranky and exhausted but happy just the same. And now I'm not.

And I'm thinking of all the money spent and the barely-opened manual in the desk by my side and the cute picture of Neil that I took last Sunday while he was leaning over and signing the book of the person in front of me ...

It's all gone, gone, gone.

Yes, my cellphone is gone, lost, stolen, whatever. I finally arrived in UP with my finished paper at about 2pm and I had such a bad feeling (that wasn't entirely unconnected to how bad my paper was) and decided to check my bag and it wasn't there.

And the first thing I thought was "No more cute picture of Neil!"

And the second thing I thought was "I have to tell my mom."

And the third thing I thought was "I don't have Stupid's new number anymore." (Or any number for that matter, except the ones I started to write down in my planner. Which means that I have to contact everybody and tell them my new number and get theirs. It's really such a hassle and that's why I've avoided changing numbers and losing phones. In fairness, this is just the second time.)

After trying to call my cellphone dozens of times (using various cellphones of my friends which either had too-low battery or too-low credit) and hearing the endless unanswered rings, I decided that it would be better if I went home. Then I started calling again but this time all I got was "The subscriber cannot be reached. Please try again later."

I tried to cry. I wanted to cry. After all, this isn't self-pity. I wouldn't be breaking my promise. No one would disagree that losing one's cellphone is a good reason to cry.

I ended up yawning.

So I called my mom and told her the news and heard her disappointment and her worry. And then I called my friends and joked about it and about Neil (and yes, my heart is still breaking for that picture.) And I've sent text messages trying to bribe whoever got my phone (I don't care how much I pay, I want that picture back!) And now I think I've given up.

My cellphone is gone.

My cute Neil picture is gone.

I want to cry.

[Yawn...]

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14-jul-05

And Now For Something Entirely Different

I have to post about something else or people will think I'm completely obsessed (which I am, a little bit. but who wouldn't be?)

It's 5 am and all I have written for my Experimental Film concept is the word "adolescence" and its dictionary meaning. All I have to do now it type the rest of it: a metaphor and an image. All I can do is stare at the blinking cursor.

It's unnerving especially if your professor can spot a mistake at first glance.

What I wouldn't give for an experimental sort of brain! (well, for one, I wouldn't give away any of my books, especially the stuff from my Neil Gaiman/JRR Tolkien/Jessica Zafra/Fairy Tale book collections.)

Fine! I'll get back to my paper.

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12-jul-05

Neil Gaiman Days
(AKA Diaries of a Frustrated Stalker), part 4

Epilogue: In Which I Post My Last Neil Gaiman Post (For Now)

The unless I was hoping for didn't happen and now I really have to accept the fact that it's over and that my life has once again reverted back to it's normal hectic pace of school duties and organization duties. (Incidentally, my punishment for my absence yesterday is a report on plot, character and theme in films. How challenging.)

Still, I've gone from sheer happiness to mortification to being just plain kilig (a filipino term for goosebumps or butterflies or whatever it is that makes a person giggle and shiver with goofy giddiness.)

Oh well. Just read his blog and he's gone, gone, gone.

Oh well.

I think he's one of the kindest people I know and someone who's also very sincere, In spite of the sheer exhaustion he must have been feeling, he was still charming and witty and altogether too cute for mere words.

I also think that the best part of this experience was meeting people next to you in line (even if they're bratty know-it-alls. At least now, I have something to talk about with my friends.) My thanks to Marlo, Erika, Den and Jason who were kind enough to share their joy (and pain) with me.

One day, I will post a transcription of the Q&A portion of The Gathering in Rockwell. (I used my ancient tape recorder and I can barely hear anything but a few phrases and the wall of sound.) But for now, I think I'd better settle down and get some more sleep. After all, I still have a report to make, films to conceptualize for my directing and experimental (not to mention thesis) film classes and an organization to lead.

And I remember a quote from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park that went something like: "Life is nothing more than a succession of busy nothings."

Oh well.

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11-jul-05

Neil Gaiman Days
(AKA Diaries of a Frustrated Stalker), part 3

Chapter 6: In Which I Do It Again

He kissed me...He put his lips in my [cheek] and then he kissed me...I felt a sudden tingle when he kissed me...A sparkle...A glow... (with apologies to the song He Touched Me from the broadway musical Drat! The Cat!)

I'm kinda worried that I'll forever be known as crazy stalker girl but I don't really care.

I woke up at 3am, really meaning to be in Gateway at about 5. And then I realized how crazy I was being and how exhausted I was so I went back to sleep. I woke up for real at 6am and got to Gateway by 7.

Thankfully, there were only a few people there. And so I camped out and eavesdropped (which is what I basically did the past 3 days.) I met new friends: Jason and Den from Ateneo and we waited. In the meantime, I was so jealous of all the people holding tickets to the Writer's Forum that I wanted to grab them and run, run, run for my life. They finally gave us our priority numbers at 12 noon (I was number 19), and then we went to lunch and then we went back and waited and waited and waited.

Den asked me if I was tired (I'd been doing this for three days after all and I've spent about 20 hours of my life waiting for Neil.) I said I wasn't. (But I was tired, of course. But this is NEIL GAIMAN we're talking about, one of the few people that I really, really love and idolize.)

He came early (which really surprised us all) and instead of a reading we had a short Q&A instead where he was asked why he always wore black (because he lacks imagination in his clothing and instead saves it for his writing), how he got so interested in mythology (he started reading egyptian mythology when he was 7 and was hooked ever since) and...well, I forgot the other question.

Finally, the book signing started and before long it was my turn. I brought my digital camera because it was lighter, took pictured better and had video capabilities and so I asked the people to take a video instead.

This is what I vaguely remember from our conversation:

Me: "Hi! It's me again."

Neil: "Yes. Still Ayn for Ayn Rand?"

Me: "Yes, still Ayn."

Then he said something I can't really remember and I said something like "Well, this is the only way I can stalk you." And then the Fully Booked people suddenly reacted and I was like "No! No! He knows all about it, I said it in his blog." And then he commented about his tour on Anansi Boys and how 2000 Filipinos might get the same idea. (Does that mean he's coming back soon?!)

And then I gave him my gift: my copy of UP Press's 100 Philippine Love Poems and then he thanked me and kissed me.

I happily said goodbye and as I left, he said "You rock!"

[this essay is interrupted by real jumping and squealing]

I went home very happy and kept on grinning and giggling inside the taxi (and also vaguely mumbling to myself because I felt so stupid about that stalking comment.) I think the driver was looking at me funnily. I don't care anyway. This was the best 3 days of my life so far.

Chapter 7: In Which I Crash Back Down Into Earth

The first thing I did when I got back home is check the disc (this is the second thing.) And then got disappointed when I realized that the disc was damaged and my moment with Neil is gone forever. Well, except maybe in my memory. But that can't be replayed as easily as a video recording.

Oh well, I just have to remember it for always. I still feel his lips on my cheek somehow and I still feel the hug from yesterday. And I'm smiling. I hope that he remembers me as I'll always remember this.

Tomorrow, my life will be back to normal again. Unless...

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10-jul-05

Neil Gaiman Days
(AKA Diaries of a Frustrated Stalker), part 2

Chapter 3: In Which I Finally Get My Books Signed

I'm a bit exhausted so I'm going to do this quickly. Since I had a numbered stub already, I went there a little later (10 o'clock...haha) and fell in line. The wait was long but I met some old friends, made some new friends and my neighbors were kind so I was able to sneak away for food and cr breaks.

anyway.

Around 1:30pm, they started letting us into the building. Around 2:30pm we heard some screaming and knew that he was there. My new friend Erika (this over-enthusiastic high school student) started screaming because we couldn't hear what Neil was saying and continued to squeal excitedly as she got closer to him. (Many were amused, some were irritated with her. But she's a child so they should all forgive her. At least we know she reads, unlike many other children in her generation.)

Finally it was my turn. They changed the rules and we could only have two books signed. So I decided to have Stardust signed plus my notebook (just in case I get stuck in a boring class.) He asked if I was named after Ayn Rand and I said yes (if he didn't know who Ayn Rand was, I think I would have been a little disappointed but thankfully, that didn't happen.) and then he drew a star on my Stardust book. I then showed him my notebook and he looked at me and asked if it was me, I said yes and he gave me a HUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[this essay is interrupted by internal screaming and imaginary jumping.]

He next commented that he hasn't seen anyone lurking around. I said "maybe tomorrow..." and then I said "Thank you very much" and then left.

After that, my new friends and I conducted a post-mortem. As with yesterday, I didn't want to leave but left at around 5pm. ES then texted me and I went to SM North and we watched Monster-in-Law. (short summary: Jane Fonda is great, Jennifer Lopez is irritating and Michael Vartan is cute.)

And I think I'm going to do something stupid tomorrow but class is everyday and this is once in a lifetime. And if I bump some people off because of my greediness then they have nothing to blame but their stupidity.

Chapter 4: In which I wish I could do the following things at this moment:

1. Click the heels of my Chuck Taylors together while saying "Neil" three times and instantly be transported to his hotel.

2. Turn back time so that I could have been in line earlier yesterday,

3, Turn back time so that I could enter the drawing contest. Though I wonder what Neil would think of stick people with hair.

4. Turn back time and somehow bribe my guardian angel to persuade Neil's guardian angel so that he will "guide" Neil's hand to my ticket stub.

5. Turn back time and email the British Embassy so that I'll be able to get tickets to the Press Conference tomorrow.

6. Actually do what Richard told me to do (haha, not really.)

Chapter 5: In which I plan

In the future I will...

1. Make lots of money, own a bookstore, travel to the states when there's a sci-fi/fantasy convention where Neil is a speaker and invite him to come back to the philippines.

2. Make lots of money, travel to the states and stalk Neil for real this time.

3. Become a really, really famous sci-fi/fantasy writer and get invited to sci-fi/fantasy conventions where Neil is a speaker and befriend him.

4. Invent a gadget which will allow me to steal his brain.

5. Marry his son.

6. Actually do what Richard told me to do (haha, not really.)

I added some pictures...

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9-jul-05

Neil Gaiman Days
(AKA Diaries of a Frustrated Stalker)

Prologue: In which I almost freeze to death and drink my first bottle of beer

Last thursday, my friends and I went to the CCP Dreamtheater for an advance screening of Big Time (a digital feature film to be shown in the Cinemalaya Film Festival) and almost froze to death, thanks to the over-zealous airconditioning in that place. It was a fun movie and I recommend it to everybody who despairs of the Philippine Film Industry. We have hope.

Friday had me making plates for my Production Design class. I really don't have the mind of an abstract artist (case point: my rejected concept for my experimental filmmaking class) and the only thing I did properly was a linear perspective of a chair. After 30 minutes of thinking of titles that fit the scribbled lines I called art, I attended the F.U.N.K.U. (Freshie Ulitin Natin Kasi Umulan or Freshmen Lets Do It Again Because It Rained.) I was glad that the audio-visual presentation my organization slaved over turned out well.

After that, Richard, ES and I went with my Korean friends to their new house where we spent the next few hours hanging out. They offered me a beer and I couldn't refuse. Let's just say that I don't know why or how people drink that stuff. It tastes terrible. (Thank heavens for Coke!)

Chapter 1: In which I finally get to see Neil Gaiman

No, I didn't win the raffle contest. I didn't even get my books signed (YET!) But what happened can only be described as an experience.

I came home at about 1am Saturday morning and went to sleep immediately because I felt really, really bad (after barely drinking 1 bottle of beer) and because I had an 8:30am class. Being such a good student (?!), I woke up early and went to U.P. only to find out that we had no class. So I waited in the film lobby until my friends arrived. My plan was to leave school at exactly 10am and be in Rockwell by 11am. It didn't happen that way.

Richard was late, for one and so Ace and I left at about 12. I was impatient because I was already 2 hours behind schedule (2 hours!) and so we took a taxi. But it was all in vain because apparently, SEVEN HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-THREE people were there ahead of me. 783! people had been lining up since 5am in the morning. I suddenly wished that I went straight to Rockwell instead of going home. So I got a pink slip with the number 84. (At least I have a reason to go to greenhills tomorrow.)

Anyway, Ace and I ate in Jollibee, still not getting over the fact that there were 783 people more desperate than I was. And then we spent the next hour wandering aimlessly (which is not entirely true because I discovered a song from the musical Gigi that I liked) until we finally decided to form a line outside the Rockwell tent.

We bumped into Ace's friend Misha and we started talking. And then some students approached us for interviews which we haltingly gave. The line started moving and we finally got in a little before 3pm (at least in my watch. time is relative, after all.) Neil Gaiman wasn't there yet and the people were restless and they were a bit rude to a wonderful indie band called The Late Isabel (I cannot believe that you can rock while singing My Favorite Things.)

Finally, Neil Gaiman came, wearing all black as usual (I don't know how he can do it in this weather though) and he was everything I expected him to be (namely kind, smart, witty and kinda cute.) He said he was a bit surprised at how noisy we were (it was like a rock concert instead of a book signing.) He read a part of his new novel, Anansi Boys and then the book signing began. We met Icang, Richard, Pam, Jung and Woo-Chul at the back and sat down to read and wait.

I then went to the bathroom and discovered that something went wrong (as they usually do for women at certain times in a month) and so I went back inside the mall and quickly shopped for something to wear (as I didn't want to spend the whole time guarding my backside.)

But when I came back, I realized that he was already playing the 9-minute behind-the-scenes preview of Mirrormask and I just wanted to scream. And then the announcement of winners started and I gripped Ace's hand tightly but that didn't help one bit.

We went home at about 7pm. Yes, it was kinda early but I was tired and I realized that spending the next few hours staring at Neil wasn't going to change anything.

So here I am, half-exhausted and half-excited. I can't wait until tomorrow!

by the way, here are some pictures...

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7-jul-05

Another Neil Gaiman Post

(But Don't Worry, I won't Gush So Much This Time...I Hope.)

I can't believe that there are only 2 days left before I finally get to meet Neil Gaiman. I only hope I won't be so starstruck (like when I met one of my other idols, Lea Salonga after her Songs From Home concert and just stood there like an idiot and held out my program-to-be-signed without saying anything. And I thought, "We crashed her dinner for THIS?")

And I'd like to take the opportunity to thank the person who made all of this happen: my English 11 professor, Ms. Celeste Flores.

After all, it was she who asked, one hot humid day in class, "Do you know who Neil Gaiman is?" I certainly didn't then. ( only one of my classmates was familiar with him.) And she let us read on of his short stories, Snow, Glass, Apples. And by the time I reached the last word, I was already deeply in love.

I started looking for Gaiman in bookstores. I read through Stardust one day while I was waiting for somebody (I forgot who) in Powerbooks. And then I started hunting and slowly buying The Sandman series. But when I finally had money to buy Stardust (which is still my favorite), it disappeared all of a sudden which resulted in an incident 3 saturdays ago when I hung out in Fully Booked, Gateway from 4pm to 9pm, waiting for them to release their new copies. (The guard, I think, was looking at me kinda funny but I really had nothing else to do but wait since I had already watched a movie and eaten tons of food I didn't really want.)

Which brings me to the gathering this Saturday. I have this small feeling that I'll see, if not the entire faculty then at least most of the professors in UP's English Department. Among them, my former English 10 professor, Mr. Mike Falgui and my current Creative Writing 100 professor, Ms. Charlene Fernandez. I'd also like to see Ma'am Flores there and the other English teachers I met during my Freshie/Sophie days as a frustrated English major. (I used to hang out in the UP Arcellana Library a lot just to listen to lectures given there. There was another reason, but I'll write about it later.) Aside from them, I also won't be surprised to see some of the younger film professors, namely Mr. Lyle Sacris and Mr. Lino Cayetano.

I'd also like to mention my friend Richard (another fan) who said not-so-out-of-the-blue while I was gushing about him, "Bakit di ka nalang mag ka-affair with Neil Gaiman?" (Why not have an affair with Neil Gaiman?)

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3-jul-05

Letting Go

I saw Stupid again last Thursday. (For those who have just stumbled upon this blog, Stupid is what I call the boy-that-got-away. Ran away might be a better term for it, though.)

The first thing I felt was surprise. This was one of those days where I wasn't anticipating anything. I was also a little pissed. (But since I'm pissed a lot and often, there's really nothing new about it.) Whenever I go to Katipunan, I find myself craning my neck trying to find him in the crowd somewhere. That day, I was so engrossed with my friends and my pissed-off state (for the reason, see the my june 29 post) that I didn't even recognize Stupid until he was right in front of me.

Which is why my friends didn't think it was him until he turned around and I mouthed the word "stupid" to their astonished faces.

I think they were more excited about him than I was. Maybe it means that I'm finally over him and I'm just stubbornly holding on even if I haven't had that much time and energy lately to hold on properly.

Now I just have to learn how to actually let go.

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1-jul-05

Being and Fatness

I don't know why Filipinos have the need to comment on somebody's weight whenever they meet. We always go: "Hi! Tumaba ka!" (Hi! You're fatter!) or "Hi! Pumayat ka!" (Hi! You're thinner!)

I was never the fat one in the family. That designation usually went to my sister who was unfortunate enough to inherit the Hilario boobs and the Dimaya hips. I fortunately didn't and that's why I was always considered as the taller, thinner sister. As things were, I usually had to defend my sister against those kinds of barbs about her supposed weight. "She's not fat!" I would say. "We have the same waistline!"

Which brings me to the reason why I'm writing this: that gleeful look my sister gave me a few days ago when she said, "Ang taba mo na, noh?" (You've gotten fat, yes?) Traitor.

The truth is, I have gotten fat. But after all, how much fast food can a body take? I had the stupidity to join an org last year and got used to eating breakfast, lunch and dinner in Macdonalds, Jollibee, Chowking or KFC. Not to mention the amount of Coke I drink everyday. It's not very hard to imagine why I've gotten fat.

And I'm trying not to let things bother me. Things like the greetings I receive from friends I haven't seen in a long time or the fact that none of my old clothes seem to fit me anymore or when irritating, ignorant people who have nothing else to do with their lives say to me "Wag ka nang tumakbo, baka lumindol pa." (Don't run, there might be an earthquake.)

It's amazing how society can unnerve us. After all, my weight is not relative to my intelligence or my talent. But no matter how many times I say that to myself, I still get bothered when someone comments on it.

It's no wonder many people have low self-esteem that they have to result to starving themselves just so that other people might accept them. Why can't we just say "Hi! How are you?" instead of constantly demeaning other people and ourselves.

In the end, we're all going to die anyway. Why not die happy?

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