You asked me to write a lyrical poem,what do I have to assume?Is it meant to be read or to be sung?No choice, I have to finish this soon.I haven’t composed in a whilewords slated to bring out a smile.Writing with measurehas been a failure.No, I chose not to,for it reminds me of days without you –of lengths and distance,an unfinished sentence,of gaps of our breathas we dive and sleep into the ocean’s depth.It reminds me of our lost time,of your then verticals I wish were mine.I’m bad at math,I really suck at.But time, space, and measurehas always been a leisure.Wonders of how far, how deep, how long,these were my fascination all along.But I haven’t thought of it in a while,cause who cares about an inch, a meter, a mile,if I have you and you have me,and if together we shall always be.
Original article from: http://www.pens.com/handwriting-infographic/
It’s been a while. I see that your interface has changed. Not that I do not notice every time I log in to see updates on other blogs, it’s just that I haven’t posted a new blog post since. The last one was a blog submitted via smart phone because I thought my phone can’t be smart enough without a wordpress software/blog function.
Well anyway, I haven’t been writing for lame and justifiable reasons. One is that I have been out some weekends, as seen in these photos:
After these (this is number two), I suffered from viral infection for more or less a week. Good thing it didn’t turn into dengue or some other disease. I just took a rest and stayed indoors. My allergies also zoomed up and I have red patches all over my arms and chest and face. Too much sun and stress I guess.
Speaking of stress (third on my list), I have been pretty much pre-occupied with work lately. My mailing initiatives have gradually declined, yet I am already preparing for my holiday letters. I am kind of excited for this since I have always been excited for Christmas. I received bad news some two weeks ago, I lost my copywriter and I am to make my own captions for all the company’s social media platforms. That means more marketing writing and I don’t like it. Remember when I wrote press releases for the gallery? Yes, almost the same. This one’s worse though, I am to embed hardsell in one to two sentences which is like really going to scream hardsell.
The boyfriend noticed I haven’t been writing him as much letters as before. I blame reasons one, two, and three, plus my emotional instability aka hormones, mood swings, impatience, and temper. With that four, I haven’t afforded to write him romantic verses, not even dedicate random lines of a poem. I chose to sulk and suck. That was a safe decision though, rather than write about mess.
And so, that was my art of filtering/funneling. I promise to make good entries soon. Also, forgive the language of this blog post, it is so blog-gy.
I have been away for quite a time. I haven’t even posted this year’s goals, and here goes:
I mean, I say this every year. But maybe I should learn not to spend more than I earn or not to spend more than I save. I will have to negotiate with myself on that.
2. Read more books.
12 books in a year is a pretty feasible target for many. But not for my pretty weird activities and schedule, it’s shamefully hard to reach! So there, I also promise to finish Roland Barthes within the month. Just some theoretical shiz to balance out all the romantic stuff.
3. Listen to good music
8tracks is a gift to mankind! It’s a repository of mixtapes from whoever around the world. I got new contents for my ipod from here. And it’s free!
4. Tour and explore Metro Manila
Because I fancy going places and finding out interesting things from wherever, the culture vulture me wants to explore further places in the metro or places nearby. It’s better to associate Manila with culture rather than traffic and smog.
5. Write more
Just this morning, I came up with a writing idea springing from a friend’s old letter to me. I’m so excited for this, but I guess it will be long project. Release dates will be next year, methinks.
Also, I just wrote 3 fictions last year. 2 of which were published here. I think I need to write more.
6. Learn to cook
I am so much into baking I forgot personal training in the old dirty kitchen. Yes, I will save time for this, uhm, along with baking. Yes.
7. Take care of my phone
Basically because it’s the boyfriend’s Christmas present to me and he saves me the time of updating OS, downloading applications, etc. So in return, I have to take outmost care for this little pretty thing.
8. Be more concerned with skin
I’ll throw creams and lotions to my skin. I’ll moisturize. I’ll learn how to put on make up correctly. Duh.
9. Remain connected with art
There are loves you cannot lose. Never. So here I am, with a red thread spun to my fingers, and with art’s – promising to read, write and feel more about it.
It’s been a week since my birthday, but since it’s always a month-long celebration, I’ll be sharing my (insert LULZ kind of adjective here) birthday wishes.
1. As most friends are aware of, I’ve fully developed Atopic Dermatitis aka Skin Asthma in layman’s term this year after days of sun exposure at La Union’s surfing site. This happened April but I am nursing my dry skin until this moment. I am really hoping that Skin Asthma leaves me for good soonest so I can bask in the sun again next summer.
2. In relation to number 1, I’ve spent grands and bucks to have my skin treated. I swear! I wouldn’t want to spend way too much on medicine, creams, and lotions ever again. Also, please, no breast cancer scare for my mother.
3. I miss my father dear so much, so I hope his business in Bohol ends soonest so he may be back here in Manila or that we may visit him there.
4. Because I’m a retard who loses mobile phones 3 times a year, I am fervently praying that I may not lose a single phone for n years starting now. Or fine, at least not have my phone lost or stolen. I may consider mobile phones dying of old age.
6. Since I am a loser in the kitchen, I hope find a way to redeem myself and my infamous corn soup! I wish to learn to cook and prepare delectable food other than Yakult Soju, brownies, fritatas, and frozen desserts. Good Housekeeping, yes.
7. This may really sound funny but I am actually wishing that my bunny lives as long as I have kids. I want my kids to get acquainted and remember their uncle Clyde whom I treated my baby for n years before they were born. And also because Clyde will be the ring bearer of my wedding.
8. As I have started Fiction category in this blog, I am hoping to have more creative juices out of my head, oozing out through the pen, err, keyboard. I also hope more art related reads and ideas as I am starting a writing job for a gallery. And of course, more romanticized posts for the boyfriend.
9. THIS: I wish to have more money I can spend exclusively on food and travel.
10. As impossible as it may seem, I really really really wish to see Sara Bareilles and Stars in concert. I’ll file my leaves, buy front-row tickets, and sob to each of their songs.
*Additional: I hope the boyfriend never gets tired of his makulit, maldita, bipolar, and bitchesa girlfriend. I hope he continues to enjoy every random, shallow, and nonsense thing they share. I hope they spend more birthdays together.
I brushed through my tumblr and found this link analyzing your blog’s personality. I tried it before and my tumblr was diagnosed as a blog of a happy female in between 13-17 years old. So, after more or less two years, I had my WordPress up for the test:
So, I jumped from being a 13-17 year old blogger to a 66-100 year old in two blogging years. That’s kind of funny. Well, truth is, I funnel my posts in WordPress – that it may be light yet personal (journal-ish) with less rants and random stuff.
So I guess my WordPress is brimming with wisdom and happiness of old age. I can already see my future, I ‘d be a cool grandma who’s contented with afternoons knitting and gardening when not in front of the computer.
A little more than ten years ago, when asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. I cheerfully say “I want to be a teacher”. It was in the late years of elementary I decided not to be one because realized I will never ever possess the required patience of the job.
I remember not having a favorite person from the faculty in grade school and high school. Though I must thank my Language and Phoenix, and Reading Comprehension teachers in grade school. They made a mean grammarnazi out of me. They pre-arranged my love for books and the creepy silence of the library. They made reading and writing a leisure – from which I decided to quit Language and Literature in college, fearing I won’t be reading and writing the same way again.
I owe “Thank you” to my Values teacher in high school who required the entire class to read Antoine de Saint Exupery’s The Little Prince and made me read aloud my analysis of each chapter. Those were the earliest Barthes exercises, I guess. And to my fourth year English teacher who made me speak of 19th century literature. I felt amazing presenting in class that George Elliot was actually Mary Ann Evans and so other literary trivia. It felt like disclosing Illuminati secrets in national TV. I was an awesome geek. And I owe another word of gratitude to my fourth year adviser who gave our class daily dosage of the chill pill. She taught us to let loose and be fun midst the stress and pressure of finding a good college.
Then came college, which was a lot different. Spending it in UP made it complicated. I had to juggle academics and extra curricular activities. Not to mention, UP is a microcosm of society. There are different communities and you get to interact and deal with them one way or another. My professors made the whole journey more than bearable. The varied approaches of learning made learning itself interesting. Along the way, what I initially found complicated, I eventually deemed enthralling. UP paved the way for the real world. My professors did.
Yes, UP profs, They laid out facts, opened possibilities. They taught me that matters should be viewed like a a kaleidoscope. It should be seen in different perspectives to get a better understanding. And you take everything and every angle with it – the bad and the good, the beautiful and the ugly. They taught me that it’s the same thing with life. You can look at it whichever way you desire, but you have to accept it with all its positive and negative aspects. Use whatever is too much to make up for the less. Balance what makes you feel bad with what makes you feel better. Seek knowledge for that you lack understanding of. Take challenges as lessons.
With this, I certainly owe them more than thank you’s.
*This post makes me want to go back to school. Seriously.
When I thought I have cut ties with art, here comes an artist friend asking me to write for his show. And being the yes girl that I am, I agreed. Well, I do think it’s a good exercise to write about art once in a while. I can’t just put four college years aside, especially when I’m planning to make a comeback after n years.
It actually feels great that I can still write about art, and even articulate artists’ ideas after leaving a job involving such. Oh art, you really are my mistress! I can’t say no to your tease every freaking time.
Here goes the article:
Secrets, Dreams, and What If’s is a three-man show revolving around the imagination and the unconscious brought about by odd juxtapositions and dis/orders in everyday life. The artists attempt to illustrate a child’s vision hence the playful, bright, comical, cartoonish appearances. These images though do not render mere fun at all, but a rather light satire of society.
Genepaul Martin leads us to a hodgepodge of characters from our childhood – Ultraman and Alice (in Wonderland). It may look sweet, resembling Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory – colorful candies, donuts, gummies and other melted sweets. The characters, however, have a sad look upon their faces – Ultraman without his horn, cut, decapitated, devastated, Alice sitting on donuts, carrying a teacup yet with no one to share some afternoon tea.
Tawnie Tantay’s characters are reminiscent of dolls – bright eyes, flushed cheeks, tinted lips, pretty dresses. Just the way society wants its women to be. At an early age, little girls are aligned towards the epitome of a desirable female. The artist begs to look at the dolls’ faces, but viewers still tend to take more pleasure in staring at the body and its surroundings, hauling a more judgmental look at women, formulating a sexual connotation rather than an innocent interpretation.
JJ Zamoranos routed viewers to a seemingly unfamiliar dimension, or maybe actually a familiar one. He displays a colorful yet uncanny group of characters in between lego blocks, masks, toys, and dark castles representing perhaps how figures from television register in a child’s mind – a chaotic combination of childhood’s innocence, smothered with adulthood’s harsh realities.
Secrets, Dreams, and What If’s is a reaffirmation of Roland Barthes’ Toys (in Mythologies). This reflects, reiterates, and reinstates how society purposely yet unknowingly molds children into the harsh world of adulthood. This presents us once again what society has initially presented us in childhood – left unspoken and unquestioned.
After this trip back to childhood, how then are you going to see things?
*Secrets, Dreams, and What If’s is opening at the Secret Fresh Art Gallery at Ronac Center, August 19, 2012 at 6PM.
I have this weird characteristic of speaking in rhymes when text messaging. I am guilty of sending “sure thing, pating”, “c’mon mamon” to people as if those will make me sound cool.
Mr. Snooze and I usually update each other regarding our trips going to work and getting back home. And after this usual drill yesterday, he said “I love you” and I replied in kiddie poetry verses like a happy pre-school teacher. I used two instead of too and counted numbers and syllables. I guess he enjoyed our sudden poetry collaboration, he continued and finished until ten. I mean really, he didn’t give me a chance to do other digits! HAHAHA Here it goes:
I love you.
I love you two, I love you three
But wait! that doesn’t seem just as many.
I love you four, I love you five
I love you as long as I’m alive.
I love you six, I love you seven
I’ll love you even in heaven.
I love you eight, I love you nine
I’ll love you til the end of time.
I love you ten
Forever and then,
my love for you will never end.
When people ask me: “Do you write about art?”
I reply in a flash: “I used to. I used to write criticisms based on history and theory in college.”
Then I realize how pathetic my answer is. I can actually reply with a simple yes or no, but why should I insist on such explanation.
I have been trained to write academically about art. I have been taught to write in layers and degree of criticism. I have been reminded every now and then of describing without using the words: beautiful and ugly, good and bad, but to incorporate aesthetics and words that could vividly depict an image in one’s imagination. I have been instructed to at least provide a frame when writing, perhaps use Barthes, Said, Karp, Berger in my articles and simplify them and make them speak to common people. I miss conversing that way. I miss being all theoretical yet simplistic when I write.
I remember initiating a writing project for myself once since an art magazine editor wanted me to write for her. I browsed through the publication and found feature articles about art. I thought it was going to be an easy task. But hell, it wasn’t. I started with the formalistic approach, but as I moved on, I could not help but criticize and point out what I found interesting and problematic which leaned more towards the theoretical side. Think: History, Anthropology, Cultural Studies. I always get trapped in the academic/theoretical way of writing/appreciating art. I feared my article would sound intimidating that only people involved in the art world might appreciate or at least read it. Thus, I never finished it and considered feature art writing not my strength at all.
Now I can only congratulate those writers who can write features for art. I never imagined myself saying this, but yes, somehow, I do wish I could write like you people.