School, clothes and five-word reviews. // October 19, 2009

I only have to submit one! moar! requirement! this semester and I am home free. Except for thesis, I guess, but that’s OK. My topic should at least make it enjoyable for me. I pray to God that this does not make me hate any of the shows. I’m already dubious about Jordan Catalano. Do not need a reason to hate anyone from Buffyverse or Neptune, CA.

In other news, I have been exercising my tablet-skills by drawing what I wore today, instead of taking photos. Because I realized that I don’t really like posting on my Lookbook (I do have one, the horror~) and I really like doing it. This is what I wore last Friday:

Speaking of Inglourious Basterds, I went to the Philippine premiere last Friday, c/o Cinemanila¹ and pretty much: Me = Blown Away. Since I’m not really in the mood to get into it (review-wise) and people are probably going to get mad at me for “spoiling” the movie for them, as people are wont to do, here are Five-Word Reviews concerning Inglourious Basterds and Atlantis’ restaging of Broadway’s Spring Awakening, which I saw the following day:

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS: Five Words Is Not Enough. (Or, “Daniel Brühl is Frakking Hot.”)
SPRING AWAKENING: Regret: Didn’t See On Broadway.

Of course, I could write more in-depth reviews, if people wanted to. I just find that I’m met with “F U, SPOILERS R EVUL” more than, “Wow, what great insight. I will definitely check this out because it seems like a great film/movie/episode/book.”

So, there. I am done biznatching.

 

My thesis “progress” and my owlery. // September 2, 2009

So, today I cut my thesis class to work on my actual thesis. I actually haven’t done much tangible work (I’ve been more of researching and speculating), so I really needed to step up my game, so to speak. I’ve borrowed books from the library, returned the ones I didn’t need and now we are left with this stack right here:

I actually probably have to go back to the library and return some of these or check out some of the other books. I was going to reference “Chuck Klosterman IV” also, but when I looked for it, it wasn’t on my bookshelf. Therefore, I must have lent it out again, and forgot to whom again. This is why I shouldn’t lend out books to people ever again, ever. Ever. But that is another story.

My friend, Raymond, was nice enough to lend me this book of his, which I am excited to flip through because a) it looks like it would be useful, and b) it’s so pretty:

He also lent me his copy of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, I guess, for my education. (I have not seen a single Godard film, and yes, I am ashamed of myself.)

On another note, my friend Patty/Petra gave me, out of nowhere, this little owl:

It’s a beanbaggy type of kreacher, and it inspired (?) me to show you, random reader, the rest of my OWLERY. You see, owls are one of the things that I do collect. My other friend, Barby, actually collects owls also, and is more overt in her collecting ways. But anyway, here is the rest of the owl-related paraphernalia I have acquired over the years:

FIGUREENZ. Three of them were inherited from my lola (my mommy’s mommy) and
the girliest one — the one with eyelashes, looking over her shoulder — was given to me
by my mom when she went to Australia.

A purse-thing I got from China! Is it not the cutest thing ever? It is!

Some clothes: pajama bottoms, a shirt and some underwear.

Pendant! I actually gave one of these to my friend (Barby! Who likes owls!), so we have matching necklaces. :)

I do not have a stuffed Hedwig (wibble, wibble) because when the toys came out, I wasn’t allowed to read Harry Potter. I do not have anything of Owl from Winnie the Pooh, because he kind of pissed me off. I do appreciate his knowledge, though, now that I am older. Also, I find that I have turned out more like him than any of the other characters in the Hundred Acre Wood. I don’t know if I like this realization, or if I just decided to live with it.

 

She thinks you’re the Cat’s Meow!: In loving memory of John Hughes // August 7, 2009

My first encounter with John Hughes was in the third grade, when I was confined in the hospital for contracting something called “acute viral infection” (I’m still not sure what it is). Sixteen Candles was on HBO and my life changed forever. What followed next was a frantic search for it on video. My uncle runs a video rental and up until this day, a small part of me still hasn’t forgiven him for not having a copy of this, dare I say, classic.
 

Samantha Baker is, perhaps, the first person who I wanted to be like. Or the first character who seemed to feel like I felt. As Farmer Ted put it, “Not many girls in contemporary American society would give their underwear to help a geek like me.” She is awesome. For a while, I even wanted to be referred to by my second first name, ‘Samantha.’ (Also, Jake Ryan, duh. Of course, I related to her. Never mind that I was barely 10 years old and hooked to an IV bag.)

But to digress from my digression, the movie was nowhere to be found. What I did run into was a VCD copy of Pretty in Pink, which in my Hughes-Ringwald-deprived state, was good enough for me. I watched it, liked it (although, obviously not as much as my first John Hughes love), even though it made it glaringly clear that I do not have a Duckie or a Blane.

In my quest to find a copy of this elusive video, I made friends with The Breakfast Club and, through my Tita Tine, who lives in New Jersey, I also made friends with Ferris Bueller. The age of the VHS tape came and went, and by the time I did finally get a copy of Sixteen Candles, tapes were obsolete, and so were the references. And yet.

Hey, John Cusack. You don’t know it yet, but you are going to make
a million girls fall in love with you. Just you wait and see.

The thing of it is that John Hughes is legendary because, underneath the (sometimes corny) rhyming (“He’s as drunk as a skunk!”), the cheeseball sound effects and the funny eighties slang, he knew where it counted in high school, no matter what era. The tragedy of forgotten birthdays, the thrill of skipping class, the wonder of that first kiss. He knew why, no matter what happens, the principal is always The Enemy, that the best friend doesn’t always get the girl (and that it’s OK), how love and friendship can be infuriating (and that it’s OK, too). He knew the truth, that: “We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.” He got it — that it’s OK to be different, that we never really know a person until we know a person, that it is not possible from embarrassment, even though it feels like it is, that everyone gets a happy ending (in the form of Jake Ryan or otherwise) and most importantly, that rock and roll is here to stay.

He knew where it counted, knew that we knew, too. And this is why, in the midst of all the deaths in the world in the past few months, John Hughes’ is probably the one that breaks my heart the most.

I miss John Hughes. I miss high school. I miss being sixteen.

You, yes, you.

To ease you through the mourning and the grieving, Twitter’s on a roll with John Hughes quotes.

“Life moves pretty fast.
If you don’t stop and look around once in a while,
you could miss it.”

 

Rest in Peace, Mr. Hughes.
Thank you for everything.

 

 

 

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