• a reminder from Billy Corgan & Co.
• iCarly¹
• wonton soup <3
• collaging

For the past few days, I’ve settled into a sort of after-graduation “summer mode” that tends to stretch into a deep and dark Oblivion, also known as Unemployment. I’ve been drawing a little (mostly letters), and writing a little (mostly about feelings), eating a lot and watching a lot of television that I missed when there were still things I needed to GIT ER DONE. Oh, and I’ve been collaging a little and it really feels good to be doing it because I hadn’t been making anything with my hands in so long, I was afraid I’d maybe forgotten how to.

Here’s another one that I made tonight:

Tomorrow, I have to run a couple of errands and attend a meeting. On Tuesday, I will probably be at the beach, but to do PA stuff, and I really, really want to start taking good(-ish?) photographs again, because it used to be such a big part of my life, and it’s kind of sad how, suddenly, it’s not.

Yeah. I told you this post was about nothing.

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¹ You’re not allowed to make fun of iCarly. It’s one of the funniest shows in the world. Sure, there are cheap, obvious jokes here and there, but there’s a lot of really unexpected, genuinely laugh-out-loud moments. Plus Freddie is adorable. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME NOT WATCH IT.

You could say that, at one point in my life, I was a pretty big Gleek. I can’t help it; the show has appeal. It’s like High School Musical, but with songs I already know, sung by mostly good self-deprecating teenagers and also, it has Jane Lynch. Glee has been on hiatus for months now, and will be until April, so in some weird, desperate need to get a fix, I started watching reruns. And as I watched it again, I stood by as what seemed to be the most promising show in television today crumbled right before my very eyes.

To say that Glee is a terrible show is unfair, because it does have its merits. But Glee capitalizes on the knowledge that their songs are catchy and their leads, attractive. The ensemble cast is funny enough, the milieu is safe enough (Come on, who doesn’t like a good coming-of-age setting?), and the song choices are also pretty palatable to the ear. The show is so complacent in its obvious appeal that it neglects real and solid character and plot development. The characters are caricatures that exist only to sing and make jokes, and to sometimes add in a few minor plot points, some of which seem to have no bearing, at all, to the general, encompassing story, and are not even referenced again.

The characters are vague and stereotypical, it’s easy to write in whatever sort of personality to them, making it convenient for the writers to put in whatever sort of tension that they need to keep things interesting. In “Mash-Up,” the show introduces the Rachel/Puck angle… and abandons it, completely. It makes you root for Will and Emma, because Emma is likable and Will’s conniving wife, Terry, is her complete foil and has no redeeming qualities to her, whatsoever.

This wouldn’t be such a problem, since good, well-sung songs and humor seem like sound qualities to build a show on. But because it seems that Glee is trying to make a connection with the actual, alienated teenagers that they try to portray. These characters exist for the audience to be able to relate to them. But the problem is that there is no consistency to their characters and the things that they do. The third episode, “Acafellas,” which aired prior to Kurt’s coming out to his father in “Preggers,” shows us that his father disapproves of his homosexuality (he took away his car!), but we see them bonding the episode after, and beyond, particularly in epsiode 8, “Wheels.” Jane Lynch’s character, Sue Sylvester, is portrayed as a jerkface but humanizes her in the same episode by giving her a sister with Down syndrome, and then the show steals back the humanity almost instantaneously when Sue sabotages the Glee club by leaking their set list to their competitors in “Hairography,” just because she can.

Glee is funny, and I really do admire this kind of humor, having been a fan of creator, Ryan Murphy’s previous teen-oriented series, Popular. But it seems like the show often overshoots and misses the mark. Buried in the songs and the jokes are “heartfelt” and “touching” scenes end up seeming like affectations. It seems like the show’s creators know where they want the show to go, but add so much extraneous details that cause it to look overworked, uninspired and just messy. They tackle issues such as premarital sex, disabilities, popularity and infidelity, but they take them so very lightly. These issues are usually approached humorously, and it is unnerving because there is a certain disconnect, with what it seems they are trying to do — which is communicate and connect with their audience.

There is also very little extended narrative, and it bases the progression of the story on what would likely be the most well-received stories. As if to say, “Never mind the already established relationships and backstories, we give the audience what they want.” And it’s just so messy. It feels, to me, that the awards that Glee has won are premature. There is a lot of space for Glee to grow, and I do think that it has potential, but I don’t think they deserve their awards just yet.

I’m still going to be watching, because I’m a sucker for musicals (and Lea Michele is fantastic as Rachel Berry). Hopefully things will turn up, by the time the show starts up again, because I genuinely think that Glee could be much, much better than what it is now.

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And this scene from Community‘s 18th episode, “Basic Genealogy,” just because it’s funny and timely:

capped by JP del Mundo

Pierce: It’s okay, it’s okay. Let it out.
Jeff: We always used to watch the shows she wanted to watch. I hate Glee.
Pierce: Eh, I’m not crazy about Glee either.
Jeff: I hate it. I don’t understand the appeal at all.

Not too long ago, I operated under the belief that the most important things to look for in people are the things that you have in common. I recited that line from High Fidelity more times than I can count¹ and I said it to people like it was a Bible verse, repeating it whenever the subject of popular culture and preferences came up. I calculated the probability of how much I would get along with a person, based on what they liked. People who liked the same things I did were more attractive to me, even though they turned out to be pretty lame jerks, once I got to know them better.

A question: Why does it matter? A couple of years ago, a wise man named Chuck Klosterman tried to tell me that it didn’t, when I read an essay in his book, “Chuck Klosterman IV.” On the subject of guilty pleasures, Klosterman said: “It never matters what you like; what matters is why you like it.”

Very recently, I met someone I had nothing in common with. We didn’t like the same things and we didn’t have the same friends. We didn’t spend our time in the same manner (I’m assuming), or talk the same way. But there was this certain, particular moment of attraction, of being drawn to his personality, just because he was so earnest and so unapologetic about everything he did and said and believed in.

When I won an LSAA² for Graphic Design, a lot of people were surprised because they had expected a win for Fiction. I’m not saying this to brag or gloat, but because it caused gears in my head to click together, and it was just very telling of my tendency to shy away from the possibility of rejection. See, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I couldn’t tell you how many countless times I re-wrote my autobiography. I wrote a retelling of C.S. Lewis’ “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” when I was in the third grade. (It was crap.) And if I could, the first things I would save from my hypothetically burning house are my books. One of the panelists for my thesis even said that it seemed like I spent more time writing than designing, which is a comment that is meant to be insulting (as I am an information design major), but it was like (good) music to my ears, because all of them agreed and thought that my writing was good.

I’m more comfortable when my visual work gets rejected, than when the things I write do. I guess the stuff that I write mean more to me, because I put more of myself into what I write than in what I make. It sounds terrible when put like that, but it’s the truth. Writing out feelings and thoughts is a little more personal, a little more confrontational, to me, than making something pretty out of these thoughts and feelings. If someone doesn’t like what I make, it’s very easy to dismiss it as a taste issue. Maybe it’s not their aesthetic, or they just don’t like or get my style. And then, I’m fine again. But if somebody dislikes the things that I write, it usually ends up feeling like a knife to the gut.

The pressure to write something spectacular has been looming over my head for the past two years, which is actually when I stopped writing complete stories. (I would always have a beginning or a middle or an ending, but never all three strung together.) And then there is this feeling of crippling doubt, and then I come up with nothing, or I just don’t even bother to try anymore. I didn’t apply for the LSAA Creative Writing division because I didn’t think I was good enough, because I never tried to be better, and I never put myself out there enough. I was scared of what people might think of me when they read what I write, because it was so easy to hide behind the ambiguity of art… People can ascribe whatever meaning they wanted to on the things that I made, but it’s not so easy to be vague and abstract when you write something out. It’s easier to judge a person that way, and that’s one thing I didn’t want to be done to me.

Chuck Klosterman’s “Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas”

The problem today is that people care too much about what other people think. Personally, it took me to a point where the ‘me’ that I presented to people became such a carefully-crafted character, just so I could impress the people I liked and stand out from the people that I didn’t. I was still me, but I was some sort of veiled, half-me, where all the embarrassing parts ended up being the hidden parts — reserved, I guess, for my family to see and get to know. (Unfortunately? for them.)

When asked why he chose that particular way of dancing, that not everybody “got” or understood, the earnest guy , with a shrug of his shoulders said, “That’s just what comes from my heart.”³ It’s one of the simplest things I had ever heard in my life (and I’m sure I’ve heard it at least once before), but it was also one of the truest.

I don’t know where to go with this, really, but one of my resolutions for 2010 was to “be brave” and I guess that’s what I’m trying to do. I want to be brave, because people might not like what I write or the way I tell my stories or the words that I choose, but I need to learn how to not let that stop me.

I’ve given up on some of those resolutions on my list, but I’ve still got this, and I’ve still got time, and for now, that’s seems as perfect as it can get.

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¹ “…what really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films — these things matter. Call me shallow but it’s the fuckin’ truth.” — High Fidelity, 2000.
² Loyola Schools Art Awards.
³ Translated. He said, in Filipino, “E ‘yun ‘yung nasa puso ko e.”

Look, Diana got the shirt I sent her! Looks great, love. :)

Diana’s a great photographer based in Portugal. Check out her work by looking at her website or her Flickr account.

On another note, I think I want to hold more contests over here. Just have to figure out what kind. If you have any suggestions as to what sort of things you’d like me to give away (no grandiose ideas, please! Just fun things that are easy to get a hold of and mail out), please leave a comment or something.

Ever since November 2009, I have been itching to write this entry on Doctor Who. The thing is, I couldn’t because I hadn’t finished viewing all of series 1 (traditionally, series 27) through 4. I was taking a television class under Andrew Ty last semester, and before I knew it, I was hooked. We ended class, exactly, with the last episode of series 2, a two-parter that left me wanting to find an empty bathroom stall and just cry.

THE PREMISE OF THE SHOW: Doctor Who isn’t about any doctors, ironically. In case you are not in the know (which, I find, most people outside of Britain, including me, are), Doctor Who is about an unnamed character simply referred to as The Doctor. He is a Time Lord from a planet called Gallifrey, and he goes traveling in a blue Police Box called the TARDIS, or Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Essentially, it is a time machine.¹ Occasionally, the Doctor has a companion with him. The Doctor’s companions are usually there to help him “operate” the TARDIS and go traveling with him, but more often than not, they end up assisting him in, usually, saving the Universe.

If you’re going to start with Series 1, then the companion you will meet is Billie Piper. (If you don’t remember who Billie Piper is, let me refresh your memory.) The Doctor is played by Christopher Eccleston, who is brilliant in his portrayal of the Time Lord. He is menacing and endearing at the same time, simultaneously beautiful and terrible.

However, the most famous and iconic regeneration (we’ll get to this in a while) of the Doctor in recent years is played by David Tennant, who also played Barty Crouch, Jr. in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Before I prattle on and on and on, here are five reasons why you absolutely must watch Doctor Who. In list form, just because I love you.

Why you should watch Doctor Who:

1. IT’S IMPORTANT.
   This is kind of a lame reason, but it’s true. Doctor Who is a British television series that began in 1963, went on hiatus in 1989 and was resurrected in 2005 by BBC. It’s important because majority of the people who grew up in London, grew up with Doctor Who.

   Now, Reason Number One isn’t necessarily a “convincing” criterion, in terms of why you should watch it, but it’s something to be considered. Discounting 7th Heaven (because it is obviously crap but that is a different story altogether), most shows that last this long do so because they are integral to popular culture as well as society. They perpetuate some longstanding legacy, with a “character” that develops alongside the context within which it operates.

   People have been watching Doctor Who since the 1960s. There have been ten (eleven in April) reincarnations of the Doctor, by way of regenaration, which is a process Time Lords undergo in order to somehow “cheat death”. I won’t go into the specifics, but that’s a basic explanation as to the change of casting for his character. Fans have their own favorites, and have dubbed each of them, fittingly as “my Doctor.”

   There are also, in existence, several Dalek (Time Lords’ sworn enemies, basically) costumes, and cookies, as well as recreations and references to the TARDIS, like such:
   

   

   Pretty much, all I’m trying to say is: it’s a pretty big deal. And there’s a good reason why.

2. IT’S FUN.
   Come on! Time-travel. History. Aliens. Bad Guys. Good Guys. Silly Guys. Meddlesome (but somehow charming) Family Members. Running, lots of running. Chaos. Madness. Explosions. Suits. A Police Box Flying Through Space. Space! Seriously, how could you ever have resisted?

   Any way you look at it, there is really just an inherent fun element in Doctor Who. There’s usually a bunch of new characters (although sometimes they reprise bad guys and other familiar faces), new settings, and new old settings in an episode. There is also always some ridiculous element that somehow works to the advantage of the show. The TARDIS itself, when you think of it outside of the context and the developed “lore” of the show, is pretty ridiculous. However, this peculiarity gives character to the show that is so distinctly itself.

   And while Doctor Who is decidedly a science fiction show, which puts a lot of people off because they think that it is largely set in outer space (i.e. Battlestar Galactica), it actually explores and speculates already established historical events such as the fall of Pompey, Shakespeare’s lost play, the origin of werewolves and the disappearance of Agatha Christie.

3. It’s funny.
   I’ve tried very hard, but I can’t put my finger on why Doctor Who is funny, or in what way it is. I’ve chalked it up to the fact that the Doctor is an alien. So he’s naturally funny. (Flawed logic, I know.) But, sometimes, it just really seems as though he does not mean to be funny at all.

   How to describe it? Some of the companions are funny (Donna is my favorite), and they poke fun at everything. Their mannerisms, scripts, speculations almost always have humor. The aliens are sometimes funny (The first meeting with the Ood in a series 2 episode, “The Impossible Planet,” always has me in stitches), as are some of the guest/minor/recurring characters. It’s silly, obvious fun, but never of the slapstick kind.

   If you would be so inclined as to direct your attention to this spoiler-free collection of funny clips that I did not make:
   

   And this other one, just because it makes me giggle:
   

4. It’s interesting.
   Aside from the stuff I’ve mentioned, there’s more to Doctor Who. Loads of themes are explored in the series that are dark, serious and, surprisingly relevant. Although contextualized in an often alien environment, issues like slavery, morality, ethics, existentialism, family, loneliness, technology, the abuse of power, and so on, are actually sort of illuminated very effectively. Even though they’re set in a different context, there is still some sort of familiarity present because they’re tackling issues that could very easily have been experienced by the audience.

   The program also lends two perspectives: a more removed, learned and strange one from the Doctor, and a humanized and emotional one from the companion. Because there is a certain detachment from the issues, we are given the opportunity to confront them in a much different way than we do in real life.

5. It’s not the kind of show that takes itself too seriously.
   Let’s face it: the downfall of a lot of television shows that are currently on these days is the constant pursuit of Being Taken Seriously. Good news is that Doctor Who doesn’t really care whether or not you take it seriously. While difficult themes are tackled by the show in each episode, Doctor Who is not afraid to laugh at itself.

   The show effectively combines humor, science fiction, theoretical physics², drama, adventure, and suspense (I’m looking at you, Steven Moffat) altogether, resulting in a very lovely hour each week. The scripts are well-written, the actors are brilliant, and it approaches each episode with a certain playfulness that doesn’t sugar-coat the dark stuff, but also doesn’t present them in a melodramatic manner, or as an affectation.

   In many ways, the show is like the Doctor, who bears such a heavy burden on his shoulders, has had such a dark history, and has lost a lot of what he holds dear, and yet: he manages to crack up a smile, and carry on.

If you’ve read this far into the entry (meaning, you actually finished it), it means that you are interested, even if only vaguely, in the show. Do yourself a favor and watch it already. Allons-y!³

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¹ It is also bigger on the inside!
² I might just be making this up.
³ This is French for “Let’s go!” Ten says it all the time.