I Can't Handle My Feelings Ugh

HERE'S A WEIRD, FUNNY THOUGHT: FEELINGS SUCK. 

And I'm not just talking about a petty, "he's-kinda-cute" crush. I'm talking all-consuming, years-of-suppressing, blind-siding, I'm-starting-to-feel-pathetic kind of crush. 

18 years later and I'm still stuck in the same situation: never putting myself out there to reveal my true feelings and ending up just silently dying inside. Different person, same situation. Every. Time. My love life might as well be a freaking vacuum cleaner because it sucks. 

Why am I sitting here blogging about it when I can go ahead and profess my undying love? Truth is, I don't know. I'm a wuss, let's leave it at that.

I guess you can say it's my fault for always playing it safe by never taking a leap of faith, but you know what, it's for everybody's good. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship with feelings and potential misunderstandings when you can just play the role of a really good friend in his life and try not to chew glass when someone so much as flirts with him. It's simple, really.

There's this pretty ancient Taylor Swift song called "Invisible" and it's one of those songs that I just listen to and not feel anything because I couldn't quite relate to it. But now it approximately has 66 plays in the past 6 hours and I've cried approximately 6,000 tears (just kidding) (but it was a rough 6 hours).

Long story short, it's another tale of unrequited love -- which is now, also, my life. The fact that my stupid crush was not at all that likely to have a stupid crush made this whole stupid thing a lot easier because I didn't have anything to worry about. And it comes back biting me in the ass. 

Complacency!!!

I don't know how to navigate through these emotions. I'm not even allowed to have these emotions in the first place because I'm no one of significance whatsoever, but biology betrays me once again and my instincts tell me to either cry or eat cookies. So far I've done both.

But the point is: I'm torn between a) shrugging it off and just accepting the fact that okay, he likes somebody else (SOMEONE WHO'S NOT ME), or b) just completely abandoning my feelings.

Plan B is semi-in motion because I've realized that this is ultimately quite pointless. 

It's pointless if I'm never gonna act upon these feelings (unlikely) and it's pointless to wait around and see if he feels the same way about me and confesses before I do (even more unlikely).  

And honestly, this is all starting to feel a lot like high school to me which is bizarre because I'm technically an adult, and adults don't deal with their feelings by quietly pining over someone from a sizeable distance away.

It's fight or flight... and I'm choosing to fly away.

You could say it's the easy way out because it means never having to confront your feelings, but I'd like to say I'm being smart about this. Might take longer than I'm imagining, but still manageable. How hard can it be to get over a cute, smart, funny guy like him who's a complete pain in the ass but is still irresistible? Pffft. Pffffffffft.

And as for my love life: abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Dante Magazine

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm really pleased and amazed with our final magazine for our PUBLISH class turned out! For something that was crammed in the span of 2 weeks, I think our team did a pretty good job putting together this thing of beauty.

Janine's layout is really what brought everything together and despite the minimalistic approach to the design, I think this is where the whole "less is more" thing really applies. 

Dante is an art magazine and we intended it to be a creative outlet for the youth. It focuses on aesthetic and writing, which I really love. And for our first issue, we decided for it to revolve around the theme: The 7 Deadly Sins which inspired the name of the magazine -- Dante -- meaning Dante Alighieri, the author of Inferno.

Initially, we thought it seemed like such a heavy theme for a magazine. When you think of magazines, the first thing that comes to mind is either pop culture, high fashion, and the like, but we thought deviating from cookie-cutter ideas would be quite refreshing.

These are some of my favorite parts!

Flipping open the magazine and seeing an all-black spread sets the mood immediately. I was flipping out over how nice this will look if it were actually printed on glossies. So freakin' cool.

The contents of the magazine are basically short stories, proses, poems, photography, and art. Most of them we wrote ourselves, but we had to get contributors who could bring the magazine to life and provide us with good art.

This was a poem I wrote a year ago. I first wanted it to be published anonymously, but hey, if we're talking about expression and creative outlets, I might as well go for it, right?

One of my good friends, Adriel Tangoan, took this lovely image. I had to creep around his Tumblr account where he used to post most of his photography and I found this gem from a year ago!

The most interesting part of it was writing fictional short stories for the seven deadly sins. The theme was kinda tricky and the challenge was articulating emotions in a subtle way and let the story creep up on the reader. It was a lot of fun! Writing for envy and pride (admittedly two of the sins I'm most guilty of) made me cringe BADLY. I had to transform my "zone" into something dark and toxic. I hope that it worked? Haha!

I thoroughly enjoyed writing Walls. Guess I just have a knack for sad shit.

If you want to see more, you can view the entire magazine here!

It is accompanied by a website and I am incredibly proud to say that we own the domain! Weehoo! You can also check out the website here. It would be real lovely if you did!

Film Reviews: Sofia Coppola

One of the major perks of studying Communication Arts is I get to write about anything and everything -- including my musings. For our feature writing in class, I decided to write about one of my favorite directors ever: Sofia Coppola. 

I've long been meaning to write reviews about her films so this assignment (well, actually, it was our final paper) was loads of fun even though there was the pressure of doing her works justice. 

Lost In Translation (2003)

The world passes by Bob Harris, a tired and lonely actor who found himself in Japan to promote whiskey for a sizeable talent fee, and in an attempt to boost his career. When he forms a bond with Charlotte, who constantly finds herself alone when her husband goes to work, they happily bask in the unfamiliar setting of Japan; and as the days slip by, the realization that what they have is an intimate, however mostly platonic, relationship begins to hit them.  These are characters who share not only the same dilemma of dealing with a foreign country’s language barrier, but something deeper that nags the corners of their minds in sleepless nights -- loneliness.

My lack of exploring both in foreign places and the unfamiliar territory of love is what makes this film quite an adventure for me. Admittedly, though, it is Bill Murray’s performance that I see as the icing on top of this beautiful film.

Sofia Coppola lavishes in the emotions of the characters by taking her time in establishing the story. The long stretches of quiet scenes where Bob or Charlotte is seen staring blankly across the room leaves an empty feeling in me, as if so much as a draw of breath from me will startle the characters on screen. Sofia handles the film with grace that the story unravels on its own without a “shove” in the plot that is more often than not a hit or a miss. Witty and genuinely amusing, the screenplay – that I genuinely enjoy – delivers so much by saying so little. The film makes you feel that words have become unnecessary, that a look shared by the two characters is an adequate expression of emotions and you understand. Even Bob merely patting Charlotte’s feet contains such deep emotional intimacy that I find that simple act serves as the pivotal part of the film.

The shots of the concrete jungle that is Japan are mesmerizing and gave me the same wonder and shock that Bob feels when he is plunged into the heart of the city. It felt as though I was travelling with them. It does not fail to deliver beautiful imagery, with the camera placed in all the right places so the angles are just right. Along with the visual beauty of the film, I especially enjoy the music that truly sets the atmosphere. It thoroughly makes you feel the conflicting emotions of loneliness, happiness, security, confusion. The film is a quiet storm that leaves an aftermath.

I will always question what Bob whispers to Charlotte at the end of the film and although it upsets me that they will never reveal what it is, it is that private moment that gives me closure. It is not a love story so much as a story about love. It does not conform to the generic formula and it is not bound by the rules of a typical Hollywood tale. You feel, and that is the purpose of this raw and powerful tale.

Someday (2010)

The film captures Hollywood without the glamor, particularly through Johnny Marco, a big-time actor who stays in the Chateau Hotel with money to waste, women at his disposal, and a lifestyle that has severely numbed him, resulting in his passive and robot-esque demeanor. With the sudden introduction of Cleo, his eleven-year-old daughter to his life, his world is shaken, waking him up from what seemed like an emotional paralysis.

The beauty of the film is its focus on character study, with long stretches of silence and the aimless, mechanical movements of Johnny as he sits on his couch, dragging on a cigarette and basking in an all-consuming loneliness. Contrary to making the film dull, the application of slow cinema extremely heightens the realism of the film. I’ve realized that working with a laconic script is its essence; the majority of the film is spent in contemplative silence and it urges the audience to really look and think. The film gives the audience the opportunity to look deeper and to feel deeper. It is hushed and quiet, intimate and authentic.

Again, Sofia Coppola makes use of subtlety and minimalism and directs the attention to the characters and examines them. Who are they? What are they thinking? The film presents scenarios and allows the audience to draw conclusions for themselves. As a fan of character study, Sofia’s representation of each characters, I believe, is something that gives life to the film.

The father-daughter dynamic of Cleo and Johnny is expected of an estranged family; however, Cleo looks at his father with wonder and adoration. Her innocence snaps Johnny out his bizarre bafflement, and he no longer feels the need to fill the void inside of him because of Cleo’s presence.

The use of long shots emphasizes the dissociation and isolation of the characters and its silences speak volumes. The absence of music initially made me uncomfortable, but the scenes were long enough that I was able to settle in the quiet. It is a simplistic take on Johnny’s struggle to make up for lost time with his daughter. Warmth radiates from the two characters, and it is both heartbreaking and comforting.

The Virgin Suicides (1999)

Undeniably one of my personal favorites, The Virgin Suicides is a passively dark film disguised in the form of 6 seemingly upbeat teenage girls living in the suburbs under the watchful eyes of their strict parents. The film explores adolescence, sexuality, loneliness, yearning, the loss of innocence, and coping with shattered ideals. For such heavy themes, Sofia Coppola presents the story with a lightness that lulls you in a state of whim with the occasional funny punchlines despite the rattling first few scenes of the film. Then the story begins to unravel and the airy feel gradually dissolves, replaced by a hollowness that is ironically palpable.

It is an elegant film, one that you cannot help but adore, both in terms of aesthetic and story. Sofia makes use of tight shots and close-ups, to wide shots of the characters. I find that it is the amount of attention paid to the detail that ties everything perfectly well together, resulting in a mundane but bewitching atmosphere. Hazy and mysterious, the dreamy tones and color palette of the film allow you to see the world through the eyes of the neighborhood boys who have long been admiring and lusting after the Lisbon girls.

What I consider the most wonderful element of the film is its subtlety and Sofia’s ability to communicate emotions through glances, gestures, expressions, and even the slightest shifting of ambient music. These things draw the audience to the girls the same way the narrators (or “we” as referred to in the book) are drawn to them. It makes for a chilling viewing experience partnered with an equally chilling narrative of sisters who took their lives for reasons that are still unknown.

Whether it is the boys’ fantasies or real-life, there is the same hypnotic feel. From when the boys daydream of the Lisbon sisters frolicking in the fields to organizing a prison break from the girls’ house arrest, the glaring absence of realism doesn’t hit you until the death of the girls.

Even days after seeing the film, it is of the lingering variety. My peculiar knack for moody films is also probably the reason why this is the strongest contender in my list of favorite Sofia Coppola films.

Change

What a cliche but necessary thing to write about this new year. "New year, new me" and all that crap. And while I secretly roll my eyes at those pledges people make to themselves (and dare I say they last shorter than a Kardashian marriage), I like the idea of a fresh start. A clean slate. And every new year, it's an opportunity to "upgrade".

I like change as much as the next guy, sure. Changing the bed sheets, curtains, basically anything for hygienic purposes, but if it's a rather drastic change, like, say, an impulsive haircut, for me it feels like the world has tilted off its axis and rolled towards an all-consuming black hole. Change. Yikes. Not really my thing, but in the interest of full disclosure, I will explain.

Anything that doesn't stomp around familiar territory, my immediate instinct is to cower away and metaphorically (sadly not literally) hop on the next train to Nope Town. I don't exactly welcome change with open arms, in fact, I detest it. 

I've always had a thing for hiding underneath the cloak of familiarity and comfort. I always need a little push (make that a full-on shove) to get me to do something that I normally wouldn't do. For instance, my fear of change is obviously reflected in my hairstyle. Fun fact: I've had the same haircut for the last 10 years, I shit you not. Aside from cutting it once a year (another fun fact: I like haircuts as much as I like terrorism), my hair is basically a "virgin". All it took was one bad trip to the salon a couple of years ago to shatter my faith in hairdressers and make haircuts a traumatic experience. It was a disaster and I've been cutting my own bangs ever since. Not once have I tried to dye my hair before either. Why not try a new hairstyle for a change, you ask? Well, there's not really an undo button for hair, is there? Or an undo button for life while we're at it? My desire for change is often overpowered by this fear, pushing me into the far corners of safety and... boringness.

The point is, the way I feel about my hair is the same way I feel about the other things in my life. Change requires a leap of faith when I'm perfectly fine with just hanging onto my safety harness. Change means losing what you've long been acquainted to without some sort of reassurance.

I'd like to see it as a sign when I read Dash and Lily's Book of Dares over Christmas and completely related to Lily. She wants to embrace danger and shed her Lily Bear image which I'm also trying to work on.

In that case, let me present to you my new year's resolution (which I will take seriously): learn to see change as an opportunity to grow. My comfort zone is ginormous which means I have to take the extra mile to push myself. I will learn to react positively to change; to react more like "Oh that's not what I'm used to but it'll make me grow as a person" and less like "No no nono nonono".

I would list down my other resolutions but this blog post wouldn't end. Truth is, there's a lot of things I'm working on, but part of that is to learn to take things day by day. I mean, I didn't expect myself to be a changed person  the moment I opened my eyes today, but there will be progress. Might be a slow one, might be a quick one.

Thank you, 2014, for being a totally shitty, totally fun year full of ups and downs (more than what I signed up for, really) without which, I will never be who I am right now. The next year has a lot of promise and opportunities and I intend to seize them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be spending the next three months awkwardly scribbling "2015" on papers.

I don't know if it's the ridiculous amount of free time I suddenly have on my hands, or my laziness to start reading the eBooks I so greedily downloaded, but these past few days I've been spending an alarming amount of time on Elite Daily. Totally fine, just catching up on hate/love-related articles ad nauseam.

So here's the thing: I stumbled upon this particular article that rubbed me the wrong way, to say the least: An Open Letter to The Girl Who Let The Nice Guy Go and my thoughts can't seem to shut up about it.

Yeesh.

Normally I'm not brave enough to share my private thoughts, especially those concerning my perspective on love and relationships and sparks and all that bit because really, what the hell do I know? But while I may lack enough firsthand experience, I'm still no stranger to unrequited love. I've been on both ends and it's not really smooth sailing. 

Long story short, the author explains that at some point in your life, you're going to encounter the "Nice Guy". He's going to be sweet, he's going to call on time, he's going to stick around when you push him away, and when you look up the word "nice" on the dictionary, his picture is going to be there. True, then the author smacks you with her entire point which is do not, under any circumstances, be the unappreciative girl who lets him go for some douchebag to fulfill your fantasy of being said douchebag's Gamechanger and taming the wild beast.

Still true. Partially. I mean, yes, you're bound to encounter the Nice Guy, but guess what, your experience may be relatively different from everyone else's which is totally okay.

A thousand eye rolls later, I still can't seem to emphasize that just because he's a Nice Guy doesn't mean he's the Right Guy.

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand that this kind of guy is ready to hand you the world on a silver platter, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything. Apart from being nothing but honest and grateful for having a person like him show you that kind of love, his kindness does not give you the obligation to love him back. Whether a relationship works or not does not depend solely on his kindness. Sure, it weighs a lot on the hypothetical scale of love, but there are other things and aspects to consider. His passion, his dreams, his perspectives and how he sees the world, (his relationship with your mom??), and the list can go on. 

And this doesn't mean you're "picky", but avoiding having to "settle". This doesn't mean that you're unappreciative either, because a guy who waltzes into your life, ready to be your Ted Mosby is an amazing guy, but he might not exactly be what you need. 

You don't have to feel guilty about letting the Nice Guy go. I once read this quote that stuck to me ever since: "There is a difference between genuinely liking someone and liking the attention they give you." You don't have to confuse those two things. If he really is a genuinely Nice Guy, he's not going to assume that you see him as an inadequate person, but simply just not The One.

Lo and behold -- that, my friend, is my two cents on this whole thing. Always felt the need to actually say it, but never really did, and now that I have, I am one less fedora-tipping guy away from strangling somebody.

Taylor Swift: 1989

I'm 6 days late to the party which is pretty bizarre considering I've been on the look out for this album since her first announcement. But now that I do have a copy, I strongly feel that 1989 deserves a blog post because a Taylor Swift album is always chock full of surprises. Although she's completely put her country trademark behind, 1989 certainly does not disappoint.

I was kind of hesitant to listen to the tracks because I was afraid that I may not like the new direction she's taken as an artist, especially after the release of her single "Shake It Off" that's unquestionably catchy and all but doesn't really sound like Taylor Swift to me. But I quickly got over it because her transition from country to pop is intriguing enough to keep me along for the ride. And looking at the tracks in my iTunes library, there was this smallest hint of doubt in me that maybe she couldn't pull this one off.

BUT luckily, I was wrong. It's a new musical territory that she's exploring, but her transition is so smooth and graceful that it wouldn't even cause "shock" to a long-time fan, if that even makes any sense. Now, I wouldn't go into the technical aspects of the music, I'll leave that up to Gary Trust or some guy from Billboard, but I will speak as a fan.

There is a glaring absence of banjos and raw acoustic guitars and in its places are beats and electronic rhythms that pretty much scream "pop". And hypothetically, if someone didn't know any better, it would be silly to think that Teardrops from My Guitar and Shake It Off were written and sung by the same artist. The distinction between 1989 and her prior albums is really prominent, and that's not such a bad thing.

I was always a fan of her slow ballad songs that I could belt out in the shower like Enchanted, All Too Well, I Almost Do, Back to December, and The Way I Loved You (all-time personal favorite) so even if I knew it was a long shot, I expected to hear at least one slow ballad. It's kind of disappointing, especially since she writes the best lyrics that accompany the most passionate melodies. Nevertheless, I'm growing to love her new sound.

1989 is a breath of fresh air. Not exactly a contender for the best among all of her albums, but still, it's the type of music that only gets better the more you listen to it.

And another thing that I absolutely love about this album is that the physical copies come with different sets of Polaroids that have hand-written lyrics on them which is reaaaally lovely. Leave it up to Taylor Swift to add such a creative, personal touch to her albums. Here are some of the Polaroids that I loved:

These came from a digital booklet and aren't scans of the actual thing because I don't think record stores here have started selling physical copies of the album.

Once you've gone through a Taylor Swift CD booklet, it is a protocol and I mean a protocol to snoop around in the lyrics and decode messages from each song. If you don't, it's like leaving the cinema during a Marvel movie without staying for the credits. So do it.

Basically, all of the lyrics were in capital letters with some lower-cased ones sprinkled here and there. The trick is to combine the lower-cased letters in order to form sentences. I have terrible eyesight so my decoding took longer, but hazaar!

1. Welcome to New York
- "We begin our story in New York."

2. Blank Space
- "There once was a girl known by everyone and no one."

3. Style
- "Her heart belonged to someone who couldn't stay."

4. Out of the Woods
-"They loved each other recklessly."

5. All You Had to do Was Stay
- "They paid the price."

6. Shake it Off
 - "She danced to forget him."

7. I Wish You Would
- "He drove past her street each night."

8. Bad Blood
- "She made friends and enemies."

9. Wildest Dreams
 - "He only saw her in his dreams."

10. How You Get the Girl
 - "Then one day he came back."

11. This Love
- "Timing is a funny thing."

12. I Know Places
- "And everyone was watching."

13. Clean
 - "She lost him but she found herself and somehow that was everything." (Personal favorite!!)

I like how it's basically a story that you have to earn by decoding it (unless of course you Google them which sucks out the fun in the whole concept). It has such a whole new different feel and the unfamiliarity is exciting and most certainly welcome.

Palo Alto

A couple of weekends ago, I finally got to get a hold of a decent Torrent copy (oops) of Palo Alto. The film is directed by Gia Coppola who happens to be Francis Ford Coppola's granddaughter (of course the skills run in the family). And long story short, this is one of those films that one could easily label as "pretentious" or "unoriginal" because it does stomp around well-worn territory, and it's basically the been-there-done-that kind of plot, but there is just something about this film that draws me in. The cynicism is not at all romanticized which I highly appreciate. I guess I just a have a knack for moody themes and elegiac nihilism (Adult World and The Art of Getting By are the two films I'm currently thinking about, which also coincidentally stars Emma Roberts) but whatever it is, it's enough to get me to watch it more than five times in a week.

The film attempts to capture the truth of the slippery slopes of adolescence and what it is like to be hopelessly trapped between being a kid and being an adult. It is a simplistic take on the angst-riddled teens and their forlorn struggling with the harsh realities of life. I find the film’s laconic script is the film’s essence; the majority of the film is spent in contemplative silence. I also especially enjoy the film’s atmosphere and mood which relies heavily on its excellent cinematography. Its moody and misty shots show the dissociation of the characters in a purely visual way. 

The shots are often awash in a dreamy haze; cloudy and occasionally out-of-focus that conveys the characters’ aimlessness and confusion. Its beautifully eccentric soft lighting proves to be the film’s crowning gem– its color palette consisting of pale hues of whites, grays, blues, and greens. The artistic use of banded shadows and silhouettes, often on the characters, added a touch of melancholy to the film. It also uses several shots of sunbeams peeking through windows and trees. Repeated lingering shots of peripheral details inside a character’s room – such as childhood toys, dead plants, and clothes lying around – are aesthetically pleasing and highly symbolic which I absolutely love. Most of the scene’s compositions are often minimalistic, with interesting perspectives, using angles that put the characters in odd places within the shot. The unbalanced views make the film all the more ambiguous. 

Another aspect of the film that I absolutely love is Robert Schwartzman’s hazy musical scores that lull the viewers into a sense of wooziness, with almost a hypnotic demeanor. It adds to the palpable sense of darkness and languor, a presence that is hard to shake off as the film goes on. 

"You're crazy."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah you are."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because... you just don't care about anything."

"I wish I didn't care about anything, but I do. I care about everything too much. I think it's you who doesn't care, not me."

"What do you mean, I care about you."

Palo Alto is the kind of film that prioritizes mood over message. Most of the scenes are long stretches because of the characters’ lack of motivation for specific goals, nor are there clear reasons behind their actions and behaviour. The film dwells on ambiguity, on the unpredictability and unstableness of the characters’ futures. At first glance, one may instantly label the film as a superficial attempt to dissect modern unthinking, passive-aggressive teens; however, Coppola does not provide any diagnoses of what is societally wrong. She merely shows us what these characters do – mundane and aimless acts, indulging on the “now” and setting aside the “later”. The protagonists have little concern for the future, leading them to make impulsive decisions with total abandon. 

The film tiptoes around conventional teenage issues, but does not confront in a way that the director provides solutions. However, the characters are given a shot at redemption by making pivotal choices that somehow allow them to grow. Because the film is all about the well-worn territory of teenagers and coming-of-age, it is easy to regard the film as banal, but its beauty is that it goes through a range of emotions. April, Teddy, and Fred, no matter how indifferent they are presented, hide behind smokescreens to cover emotional damage. The film may be a been-there-done-that feature; however, it does inject a welcome dose of sympathy for the unaided teens. What I appreciate is that Coppola does not romanticize their cynic behaviour, however one can’t help but see its poignant demeanor. More importantly, the film is paradoxically blithe and intense, with the characters constantly torn between feeling everything at once and feeling nothing at all.

SEVENTEEN

An obligatory birthday post in which I reflect upon the past 17 years of my existence and whether or not I went through interesting developments, or even in the slightest sense, epiphany.

This post is actually 2 weeks late as I am known to be the least punctual person ever when it comes to uploading and posting (I'm working on it), but better late than never. 

I thought turning 17 was the perfect excuse to ask my friends Earl and Steph to give me a hand in a mini-photoshoot. This, my friends, is where I finally live out my blogger dreams if only for 30 minutes. And I obviously look like I don't know what the hell I'm doing, which is totally true, but in my defense, all of these so-called poses are my attempts at looking like those girls on Seventeen magazine. It's a total bust.

Ah, seventeen. I'd like to say it's the comic sans of my teenage years. The age that doesn't have much significance -- just another year older from being sixteen. Except being seventeen entails a new level of maturity and emotional stability. Of course, the morning of my birthday I woke up feeling completely indifferent and unchanged which was a huge WHAT on my part. I look the same and feel the same. But I've been discussing that dilemma ad nauseam so I figured, why not try to be the glass half-full kind of person and focus on the things that finally separates the sixteen-year-old me from the seventeen-year-old me.

What good is a one year difference and why am I making yet another melodramatic teenage post about it, you say? Well, for starters, I'd like to think I went through interesting developments. I'm finally thrusting myself into situations beyond my comfort zone and I'm finally trusting myself enough to say "yes" to more things, which is huuuge considering how my mind automatically jumps to the worst-case scenarios once I walk into unknown territory. I'm learning to see these new experiences as opportunities to grow instead of opting to cower away. I'm learning to celebrate the little things that count -- like getting the right amount of sleep, finishing a challenging book, and the like.

And of course I feel like I can't get away with still being ~juvenile~, so I'm definitely, positively determined to find that right aura of sophistication if it's the last thing I do. This means being less of an obnoxious turd and more of a proper lady. Which, by the way, is going to be an extremely difficult challenge for me as I live off of sarcastic remarks and sardonic comebacks. Old habits die hard.

This is one of the few boundaries I dare not cross because the realm of love and relationships isn't exactly a walk in the park. I hardly ever thought about relationships before, much less tried to do anything about it, but the glaring absence of the ever-sappy "love life" has become such a big deal that it's impossible to ignore. It's as if everybody's somehow agreed that no teenage life is complete without the luxury of having a boyfriend/girlfriend. I'm not exactly a frontrunner on the whole flirting thing, and it's a little silly, but I try to steer clear of the whole issue. Total blobfish feeling inside each time. What most people overlook is that 'being alone' and 'lonely' are two completely different things. So no, a love life is not some requirement or some item on a checklist, in order to be "happy".

Now normally, when faced between two decisions, I'm the type of person who always ends up choosing the wrong one. And believe me, if my instincts had a face, I would punch it. I would insert an anecdote or two, but that's not something I should advertise. My instincts aren't entirely the culprit of this situation, but also my sense of judgement. And mostly I think it's my indecisiveness, but point being, unless the situation drastically calls for it, I should second-guess my instincts. Yep.

And now to wrap it all up, I guess I don't have to be what everybody else needs me to be. If there's anytime to figure out who I really am and what I really want, it's now. And I don't need to depend my self-worth on anybody else but me. If there's anything I've realized is that people shouldn't get to tell you what you're worth, but rather the other way around. And this is probably some lame, teenager-meets-the-world kind of shit, but I'm a firm believer in being nobody but myself. Even if I don't like myself all the time, I'm learning not to beat myself up too much about it.

In conclusion, I'm in my 2nd week of being seventeen. I'm probably gonna screw up a couple of times and as far as cheesy posts go, well, que sera, sera.

On Knowledge and What Not

I've had my fair share of late-night contemplation, lying in bed during the quiet hours while questioning the ways of the universe, and of course I have, at some point, wondered what I really absolutely know. 

"What do you know?" I used to think it was such an absurd question; one that I would arrogantly scoff at and respond with "I know how to breathe, I know that the sky is blue" and so on. However, the thing is, knowing is much more complex than I previously thought. Truthfully, I've never questioned the nature of knowledge in its philosophical sense. The concept of knowledge is impressively intricate that I guess it's something that I take for granted, that trying to dissect it would be futile and would just ultimately lead to a series of migraines. 

But the beauty of the Philosophy class is that it teaches you that having all the answers isn't as important as asking the right kind of questions. In order to figure out what are the things that I know, the first step is defining knowledge. Knowledge is such an abstract thing, somewhat difficult to completely grasp (both literally and figuratively ha ha) In its simplest connotation, I associate knowledge with awareness and consciousness. 

And yet, it isn't as simple as that. 

There are different senses of knowing -- knowing-that, meaning factual knowledge or descriptions of certain things; knowing-how, knowledge of procedures or skills; knowledge by acquaintance or knowledge obtained through a direct casual and is experience-based; and knowledge-wh, the knowledge of whats, whys, wheres, and whos. We acquire this knowledge either subconsciously or not, and sometimes we can't even recall or even reflect upon where we have acquired this knowledge.

Knowledge is no picnic, and there is even a branch of philosophy dedicated entirely to knowledge called "Epistemology". The common misconception of knowledge is that whatever we think of, whatever it is that inhabits our minds is immediately considered knowledge. However, in order for it to be considered knowledge, it must meet 3 conditions: truth, belief, and justification. These three conditions branch out to even more drastic requirements, making the consideration of knowledge seem impossible. Truth, in a more logical sense, is what is overwhelmingly clear that what is false cannot be known. Belief, on the other hand, is accepting something as true; ergo, believing is a requirement for knowing. Lastly, justification is necessary in order for something to be considered as knowledge. It must be supported by evidence, however not all evidences warrant justification. It must evoke certainty; something one cannot doubt.

What I used to stubbornly think as knowledge simply being awareness or consciousness about something that is generally agreed upon, turned out to be a composite web of conditions and requirements; things we unconsciously overlook. And as if it couldn't get even more mind-boggling, the imposition of the question "how do I know that I know" has been burning at the back of mind ever since the start of the class. These are the kind of questions I wouldn't normally attempt to answer on my own, mainly because 1) they're daunting 2) it makes me question everything I've ever known, and 3) a 6-worded question has never made me feel so dumb. 

However, fear not, the French philosopher Descartes came up with the cogito argument: "cogito ergo sum" or "I think therefore I am". This was a massive breakthrough in the world of philosophy, and a massive blow to the gut that maybe everything that we claim to know may not be right after all. This was the one thing upon which he built his knowledge, by questioning everything and giving everything he thought he knew the benefit of the doubt. 

This was one of the most interesting topics for me, as it challenged the existence of everything, even whether or not our minds were to be trusted. To think this way, I feel, is to live in a constant state of paranoia that even my own thoughts and perceptions are manipulated, and my senses give me wrong impressions, therefore cannot be trusted at all. It is terrifying to consider that maybe what's out there isn't what's in our minds, totally altering our perception of truth, reality, and everything in between. The very thought of questioning our knowledge and whether or not they are actually true brings me a sense of disturbance, as if Descartes is forcing me to confront a question I don't want to know the answer to; as if finding out the answer to this question will drag me away from the comfort and familiarity of the life I've grown accustomed to regardless whether it's the truth or not.

I found that humans are too trusting, afraid to second-guess their knowledge. Much like in Plato's Cave Allegory where the people who've been trapped in a cave all their lives genuinely thought the shadow of a tree was an actual tree. It imposes that perhaps everything our senses perceive are merely illusory representations of what actually exists. It then connects to our sources of knowledge, if they are to be trusted, and how we've perceived them -- what if we were deceived by a supreme evil being or our minds actually function this way?

Scarily enough, knowledge may start out as something basic and harmless, however one idea connects to another and the next thing you know you're under an avalanche of interwoven concepts that branch out to further questions and mysteries. It's amazing how the mind works, and how that little voice in our minds convince us of whatever it wants to. 

An intellectual person (I honestly forgot who, but for the sake of references, the last person I heard it say was Littlefinger of Game of Thrones), once said that knowledge is power. It is what keeps us from remaining in the shadows of ignorance. If we are to understand knowledge carefully, it entails a lot of conditions and loopholes. Knowledge must also be separated from merely beliefs because a belief is something that we assume is true, while knowledge is justified and thrives on certainty. However, believing is a requirement for knowledge because knowledge is something we are certain is true, at the same time we must believe that what we know is true. 

Overall, I genuinely feel that philosophy class has unlocked some of the most important answers I've been looking for -- not just in knowledge, but I think it has shed some light on life's greatest questions, as we are in the constant pursuit of Truth and Meaning. I find it extremely intellectually-stimulating and satisfying... never mind the occasional headaches.

The Joys of Film Class

One of the many perks of majoring in Communication Arts is studying film. To top it all off, it's an honor to be taught by Sir Clodualdo del Mundo Jr. who's an award-winning film genius and not to mention, can pull of the killer combo of socks and sandals. He's definitely not the objective type of person as he doesn't require written exams so far, rather insights on the films we see.

We literally started from the beginning, watching the first few sets of moving pictures 'till we progressed to silent films and then to the dawn of sound. And contrary to popular belief, it's really not a struggle to stay awake in class. We've seen a couple of films these past few weeks and there are two films that really stuck to me. So I figured I'd share two of my film reviews for our midterms just because.

Bicycle Thieves (1928)
Vittorio de Sica

The film revolves around a young husband, Antonio Ricci, who has been suffering a prolonged unemployment but one day finds a job that requires a bicycle. His wife then agrees to pawn their bedsheets in order for Antonio to get a bicycle, only to have it stolen the next day. Out of sheer desperation to keep his job, Antonio sets on a wide-ranging search for the thief across Rome, accompanied by his young son, Bruno. 

The film was consisted of a good amount of long and wide shots, emphasizing landscapes and the hustle and bustle of the city. It perfectly captures the busy streets, clogged with unfamiliar and hard-bitten faces. The attention to detail was what I liked the most – the visual aspects, such as the indifference of the crowds and vehicles, and occasional reckless behaviour that contributed to the setting of the “harsh” reality of the city.  

Bicycle Thieves’ plot is simple in construction; however it takes pride in its richness in human insight. What seems to be such a mundane problem means the world to Antonio and Bruno. What’s gripping about the film is that the emotions the characters convey and the events that unfold are raw with unpolished edges which makes it vulnerable and pierces even the most callused heart. It follows the journey of a father and a son, and their focus on survival in rural life. I think the film is not only a form of art, but a social statement of post-war Italy, with a horrible system of justice where even the police is of no help. The film was poignant and extremely frustrating because you root for these characters and yet the odds never seem to be in their favor.  The film puts emphasis on the vicious cycle of poverty, where Antonio is torn between setting a good example for his son by doing the right thing, and keeping them alive by also stealing a bicycle to keep his job. The moment where Antonio succumbs to desperation, with the futile attempt to steal the unguarded bicycle was the most heartbreaking scene. You can’t right a wrong by doing another wrong thing, and that is the lesson Antonio ignores as he hits rock bottom. His horrible loss of dignity was lessened, if only for a little bit, once Bruno holds his hand. The cruel and harsh world in which they live in is brilliantly told by Vittorio de Sica. It brings the audience’s attention the world and what kind of things actually occur on a regular basis.

I think this film requires a lot of patience as it progresses slowly and it takes you along the grueling journey of the wide-range search. It's exhausting, and frustrating, but wonderfully told.


The Last Laugh (1924)
F.W. Murnau

The film revolves around a doorman, played by Emil Jannings, who works for a famous and lavish hotel by being positioned in front of the busy revolving door, greeting and assisting the elite guests. The old man takes pride in his uniform – with its brass buttons and fancy details – serving as the embodiment of the hotel. However, he is demoted to the position of the washroom attendant after being considered too old to infirm the image of the hotel. 

The production and technicalities of the film played a crucial role in the overall visual experience of the film which is its essence, considering it is a silent film. The lack of dialogue, and even printed inter-titles, emphasized the Murnau’s ability to tell a story through the language of the camera, replying purely on visual cues and sound effects. The highlight of the film for me is that it is pantomime – conveying emotions through body movements, facial expressions, camera angles, and the like – which I consider is the beauty of silent films before the dawn of sound. It lets you focus your attention on the characters’ actions, along with the eerie instrumentals. I especially enjoyed its cinematography – the angles and the panning of the camera.

The plot of the film, although not as complex as postmodern works, it is hauntingly intriguing enough to stretch for an extended amount of time. One of its crowning highlights is the presentation of the main character’s descent from someone who was admired by his neighbours to being the object of rude gossips. It is heartbreaking to see a man being proud beyond all reason of his job, only to have it taken away unceremoniously. Much of the doorman’s source of happiness is in what he does and the absence of his uniform equated to the absence of his identity. It pierces the heart and hits right where it hurts the most – the knowledge that these things happen on a daily basis. The streets are full of forlorn people like the doorman and not everyone is fortunate enough to have a plot twist as incredible as the one Murnau added. The doorman reads in the newspaper that he inherited the fortune of a millionaire who died in his arms and the last few scenes are spent showing his new happy life, eating extravagant food and drinking expensive champagne. I think it’s nice of Murnau to not leave it at the doorman stuck in his dead-end job, waiting for his death. The art is in the tragedy; however I find the alternative ending refreshing as it tugs the heartstrings.

This film was haunting, with its grotesque cinematography and style of story-telling. The fact that it's a silent film makes it all the more eerie! I personally enjoyed this and Emil Jannings' acting. He also starred in another great film called "The Blue Angel". To be honest, this is really depressing and if Murnau didn't throw in that alternative ending, I would've thrown a fit. Haha.

With all these classes for the degree I'm taking, I feel like I start to notice more things now, especially the ones I take for granted. I feel like I'm not just looking anymore, but actually seeing and it's remarkable and I feel myself growing. And the world looks slightly more alive and vibrant and sad and poignant, and it scares me but it's exhilarating. And it's only just the beginning, just the tip of the iceberg, and I'm more than ready to absorb and take everything in -- to look, to listen, to analyze, to pay attention.

It's daunting, but I feel like I'm finally noticing.

Loud Thoughts

I have five film reviews to finish and my brain decided it wants to write something else. Normally these kinds of thoughts have to stay within the confines of my journals, but it's late and I'm feeling a little brave right now in the dark.

12:27 a.m.
What is it like to call
somebody else's arms "home",
and not your own
skin and bones?


1:02 a.m.
I want to find a tattoo he doesn’t tell anybody about: 
on his back or his torso, 
or somewhere along his spine 
and I would kiss it every night 
and try to see what it feels like 
to be forever etched onto his skin


1:45 a.m.
and I wonder if anyone could break my heart
as beautifully as you did

These past few weeks have been nothing short of a whirlwind and with the past few days seeming like the calm after the storm, I've finally had the opportunity to sit down and soak in some of the things that I haven't got to digest... which also means stumbling upon more good songs.

Dive – Tycho | Our Endless Numbered Days – Iron & Wine | Wincing The Night Away – The Shins

Funeral – Arcade Fire | Death by Sexy – Eagles of Death Metal | Heartbreaker – Ryan Adams

I've been stuck in a musical rut for so long, listening to the same songs on a daily basis and so I made it a mission to find some songs that are refreshingly addictive. Well these are the musical finds I've been meaning to share because the extra 3 GB space it took up in my iPhone is totally worth it. 

1. Dive by Tycho
Much like the album art implies, the entire tracklist is like riding the soft waves with total abandon. I've never pretty much appreciated tracks without lyrics before, but the melodies are really all that you need. I stumbled upon this a few weeks ago and I've found that it's great for when you're studying. It's not completely overwhelming, but it does tickle the senses. Adrift has become my personal favorite. It's the crowning track of the album. And because I'm naturally a curious cat, I did some research on what these sway-inducing tracks actually are. Its musical style is actually "chillwave" mixed by electronica artists and it's been around since the mid-2000's. The eccentric feel immediately got me hooked and it's amazingly multidimensional. 

2. Our Endless Numbered Days by Iron & Wine

I love this so much. This album has been around since 2004 and it's a shame it took me this long before I discovered it. I've only ever known one song by Iron & Wine and I've never been curious enough to look up their discography until now (woops). Imagine if your favorite cup of hot chocolate transformed into songs, because these would be it. Another thing I absolutely love about it is its paradoxical title which comes from the lyrics of another one of their songs called Passing Afternoon. "There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days." It radiates this kind of peace that I'm in love with.

3. Wincing The Night Away by The Shins

I've always had a thing for indie-rock or any sub-genre of rock in general and this album had me at the first song. Their sound is much like The Smiths', however more diverse in terms of the musical style. The thing about it is that it never sounds monotonous. "Australia" and "Split Needles" are shamelessly on repeat!

4. Funeral by Arcade Fire

I've been seeing a lot of this band around the internet lately and I figured it's about time I gave them a shot. Of course the fact that they're an indie-rock band has already got me all "sold!", the album's tracklist is what completely engulfed me. Its energetic vibe will make you bob your head no matter how hard you try not to. The songs are dramatic and beautiful, yet light and airy. I like how I don't recognize all of the instruments used in the songs, but I've been paying more attention the drums. Also, I'm crazy about the album art! What a beaut. A lot of the songs I've used in my recent playlists come from this album too just because I like the variety of its sound.

5. Death by Sexy by Eagles of Death Metal

By the looks of it, this album doesn't seem to line up with the past albums I've mentioned. Sounds daunting, especially along with the album art. But it will end up surprising you. It's not some sort of satanic cult music; Eagles of Death Metal is your not-so typical all-American rock group with incredibly bad-ass songs that'll make you wanna dance around. If you like commercials, you'll probably hear one of their songs in an Axe commercial. Plus if you close your eyes with this album on full blast, you could almost imagine yourself with a leather jacket, riding a motorcycle to an old-school diner. And I dig it too much. Thanks to David for making me listen to Don't Speak and made me feel like I've found Jesus.

6. Heartbreaker by Ryan Adams

A lot of my friends who I shared this album with have told me that he sounds like the country version of John Mayer with "a shitload of harmonicas". I'm not sure I disagree. I've had this in my files for a couple of years now, but it's been recently unintentionally ignored and I haven't listened in such a long time. Do your ears a wonderful favor by listening to "Come Pick Me Up" and "Oh My Sweet Carolina". I like how the entire album almost feels untouched, it feels so raw and vulnerable and it's imperfectly elegant.

Resurrection

So I've decided to give my blog a make-over! After leaving it idle for so long (I think it's been accumulating dust), I wanted to bring it back. I wasn't entirely sure where my blog was going the first time I put it up. My thoughts were scattered and I wasn't entirely set on whether I wanted it to be a personal one or more of a communal thing, plus I experienced a major writer's block partly because of laziness and partly because of what I assume might be fear. Still not exactly sure what I was afraid of, but I'm working on getting over it.

Because I feel like I've grown over the past year, I figured the previous appearance of my blog didn't suit me anymore so I went for the minimalist approach - less colors and more read-worthy content. It took me a couple of hours before I could finally let go of the old template. How can changing templates be so liberating yet so traumatizing at the same time?!

So while I'm here, I might as well give a few updates. 

I've been enjoying our Majors recently as I've never felt so much like a Communication Arts student before! I'm really being exposed to some incredibly intellectually-stimulating things and they've really been inspiring me. Although it requires some heavier-duty thinking, analyzing, and conceptualizing, it's a challenging experience I can't get enough of.

In over a month's time, I'll be turning 17 and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I feel like I've reached the age where there's no more fucking around and I've really got to pull myself together because being 17 entails a lot more responsibilities... and emotional stability. 

These past few months have been really productive and I plan on getting some poems done, and indulging in some more art because frankly, my academics are the point of which my world revolves around now. So I'm comping up with ideas for the next posts - a lot of words and stuff I've been meaning to share! 

Hooray I'm glad this is alive again!