And Here Life Leads Elsewhere…

Projects, readings, more activities, reports and your much more of your everyday UP thing….

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining…two years into my wondrous course and I pity those who brushed off this insightful gathering of broad minds….. they can choose to take it if they want to though so I’m not saying SCOOT! just yet.

Uhh uhh. Don’t mean to pick a fight really..its just that people should give us BAE people more credit than we’re worth…writing is a basket of fruit–so many wild and dashing shapes, colors and sizes to mix and match in the process—but it never is a picnic or a walk in the park. I’m not talking about the ants and the melted ice cream you’ve just sat on in the park. I’m talking about how challenging and complex the craft we undertake is. You get your fill of happiness but the tears never are at bay, metaphorically and physiologically speaking.. News Flash though–You still get a bargain: You get a feeling stronger than plain fulfillment inside and out and…you get hewn from the rough stone that you are into the gem that you should be or will be.

The irony is this: Some people don’t recognize that they have this potential. And that totally sucks.

But as I said–you get to choose when and where you go (if not fully than to a certain level).

Don’t be hard on people that yearn to learn about every ounce of I-ness and Me-ness that they possess. That art is a lifelong journey wading through different currents and different weather conditions. Exploring others through writing does not seek to intimidate: it seeks to refine, to maintain and then welcome change in whatever form possible. Writing has more to do with paper, a pen and words than you think–and wielding such power takes extreme restraint and responsibility.

If writers are assigned such a task then, let it be for them, by them, and for everyone who is open to such a craft.

Really guys, at the end of the day, buntong-hininga graduate, working and all, I tell you, it won’t be the size of your pay check that’ll tell you how much, what and who you are….numbers are numbers and such. There is more to you than you think so prize yourself with humility and as all humans, a bit of pride that doesn’t hurt. We are will be never be confined in mediocrity if we deny ourselves the possibility of being caged in that bubble.

I really did want to become a cardiologist or an orthopedic surgeon after I said farewell to high school. As a creative writing student, I haven’t said au revoir to that dream or to the multitude of dreams that I have had all this time. I will play the cello in the near future. I will have a three ton anime and manga collection. Petty thoughts or not, they all matter.

Because life always leads elsewhere….

And its up to you to be the main character and scribe of your tale till you get to that somewhere.

A somewhere that this very moment leads up to.

And the surprises and teardrops will be all the more welcome.

Think about it.

Nani ga Omou?

What do you think about me? What I write? What I love and hold dear?

Email me, do the friendster thing if you wish and drop me a line or two..

I welcome CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM as this is a school-related blog

I welcome RESPECTABLE PEOPLE WITH THE HEART AND MIND TO TYPE

I welcome MEN, WOMEN, ALIENS AND OTHER LIFE FORMS WHO LOVE ANIME

I welcome CONSIDERATE SOULS

Hey so please don’t bite coz I don’t. Unless you do, this blog will.

Doumo ariagatou gozaimasu!

(Bow)

Waaaaahhh! Ryoma-Sama

He smiles but rarely and rarely do I not smile whenever I hear his name. Ryoma Echizen, are you some sort of god or not? That by some twist of sweet and succulent fate, you have mesmerized me?

Hey hey hey. I know what you’re thinking. Anime freak 101 yung writer. Hai. And a damn proud one as well too. Hahai. everything has become so poetic all of a sudden?

Okay. I’ll go for any high lob on life. Even if I break my service game, no way am I allowing a pathetic deuce from poor excuses for god fangals. Yup, now, I’m talking tennis trash all of a sudden. I just love the game too much. Roger Federer, Nadal and you too, Djakovic……just strut your stuff!

I also love Tezuka Kunimitsu-kun to bits! Oh handsome, gentle and most of all, nobility oozing man hunk…waaaaaaaaaah! Go buchou! We all love you! Hahai. The glory of fandom.

Seigaku’s bound to win the Nationals–NO doubt! All thanks to our prized chibi, the stern captain, the insightful tensai and our bouncy acrobat cat!

Hmm. When I get a glimpse of this post again some time in the near future…I’ll be saying WAAH I TOLD YOU SO!!!!

Till then my soulmate, Ryoma-sama….gambatte itsumo shiai!

Of Marx, Air con and cl 122

The air conditioner is again promptly leaving my bare arms and palms cold. We’re not celebrating summer though and the heat doesn’t bite so what’s with mimicking a freezer while I listen to a lecture in class?

Hmm. Thank our university’s good graces for giving me something to begin this post with. That and Marx really is an interesting little nugget of a man. And pardon me, Das Capital, it has been another semester since I thought of you. It makes me relive my ssp4 days…which I loathed with as much ferocity possible. Not the guy, the subject, I mean. It was a too big a pill for me to swallow back then but–buntong hininga!–I did….

Oh no. I’m not going to be on about the past although Romantic poets would most probably skin me alive if I didn’t say that I never experienced a spontaneous outburst of emotion then. Oh irony ma dear, I still do. But this is theory class and not Be-Overly-Soppy-Day. That’ll come, good lords and ladies. But now, the battle with the Ice Chamber and the Photocopy-Stack-Art-Thou-Thicker begins. Oh joy.

Yeah. The joy of shaking hands and social inquiry. The rush of words. Of yawns which the Ice Chamber should be credited for gifting a few poor souls.

Don’t get me wrong. The lecture was good. I was like, damn, my heart goes out to all farmers who have to endure the looming head of ugly bitter poverty aside from the crooked leers of manipulative employers. That and I now salute economists and people fighting for their rights in the streets and in school. Nothing comes cheap and more essentially, nothing comes free. Even stale bread and rotten apples could still be found in shops and stores in markets during Marx’s time because of its said value, which I honestly cannot see and therefore, sympathize with. When a shop’s offered products are substandard, of ill quality and are downright oppressing to the senses, you’ll think the same way too.

Yeah, depreciation might soften things somehow and might even be felt although just barely but buying and eating a maggoty fruit doesn’t exactly soften the rumbling pains in your stomach.
You’ll probably think like me. Or maybe not. Some people prefer to ignore the painful pangs of reality by means of their ever reliable money bags and thick sunglasses. Whatever. I don’t care. It’s just that humanity doesn’t deserve to suffer in an never ending cycle. Yes, our present economy has the tendency to fluctuate but kindness and compassion shouldn’t have the reason to.

Don’t worry, oh patient and computer-typing readers, I know this sounds like a sermon but it’s not the way I want it to be. Blame it on my emotions and thoughts but this is how I feel.

Creative writers–even students–need good material to work with and this resurfaced–a little think-and-write moment.

The sun doesn’t make me think of summer yet and yet again I have plunged into the depths of the Ice Chamber alias Cavern with my thoughts and sentiments and ideas in my bag. The discussion gets cooler and more driven by the minute.

Perhaps, I’ll be able to lower the air conditioner next time. Perhaps, I’ll be able to write even more and plunge further into Marx’s world. I might become a historian or an economist.

Or I might become a writer and carry the biggest and greatest burden of all time: tell the world of the little chunks of knowledge that Sir Nino and my classmates have given me and the thought provoking minutes that have left me speechless and wondering about the many complications in socio-economic life.

Or I might just not disturb the temperature dial on the cooling contraption. This invention has struck cold into my heart and has given me something thought provoking to think about. Regardless of the seasons and the pen in my hand. Regardless of the photocopied notes on my desk. Regardless of what you think and what you intend to do after you read this.

I have never learned to appreciate technology and the notion of feeling all together until Marx strode into my life, Sir Nino telling me more about the guy–certainly more than what my ssp 4 teacher told me–and feeling the cold as I now type this post and share my insights on this blog.

It really bites when it’s the heat you have to forget to feel the cold so that you are able to test how strong your physical, sociological and mental endurance is.

And thanks to the cold, an article is born and a person is changed.

And now, I’m just waiting for the snow.

A shower of pale white in CL 122 class telling me that I’m not alone in feeling the cold.

Wine,Friends and a Quill

“You’re drinking white wine. I thought you never cared much for something that wasn’t champagne. “

” Eliot. That probably means you’d like me to offer you a glass,” came the reply.

Eliot laughed.

“If that were true, I wouldn’t have brought along this bottle.”

Silence. Then in an irritable voice–
“What do you want?”

“To get drunk with a good friend of twenty years.”

“You really think I’d believe that?”

“Well then, why wouldn’t you?”

Laurence looked at him with a wry eye. He wished he knew.

………………………………………………………………..

Weeks ago in the dead of night, I couldn’t find myself sleeping. Thoughts kept me awake. Thoughts I couldn’t ignore. I had a story to write. This is a part of it. Not much to work with at the moment but something I could see myself building a story around. As long as I don’t loose certain images I associate with what I collect at a certain time, I can try to write. Writing tests my resolve. It has been with me for quite a long time. I can never picture myself without it. It wouldn’t make sense.

………………………………………………………………………

I’ve always loved books and through them, I’ve learned to write. Mimesis. Indeed, imitation is a great teacher. An imagination and thirst for the pen is a wonderful thing to have. It challenges me to sculpt my thoughts into that which I can contemplate and enjoy before my eyes and through the eyes of those who continually feed their individual curiosities.

To write…a matter of choice…interest…bravery….to write is to be read by different eyes….and to see different sides to any life.

I choose to write and read because I have questions. I want to know how far I can poke up at the heavens to produce something I put my mind to. I want to know how much I can grieve for a work that touches something in me despite ridicule from other people. I want to know how dedicated I am to a craft that I have unconsciously lent myself to since I began scribbling stories in my notebooks in Grade 2.

I want to learn secrets and be introduced to the magic that words wield. I wish for adventure.

And I need to learn.

I need to learn how to be subtle and careful with words. I need to learn how to explain things with clarity without doing away with creativity. I need to learn how to be patient. Learning will last a life time. But rewards, when hard to get, are worth everything.

I believe I trust myself in saying so because writing has left me with thoughts of ten more freshly written pages full of thoughts I cherish. Thoughts I surrendered to as I marveled at them. Because these thoughts are not mine. These thoughts are gifts from my Muse. These thoughts are divine. This is to thank her for choosing me. I could only hope for her happiness. My best is all I possess.

And my best has yet to tell me its limits yet.

……………………………………………………………………………..

It takes more than wine, friends and a very special quill to create something that reaches out and robs you of your breath.

If I take the time, I might just find out what that is.

And perhaps Laurence and Elliot would let me on as to why they’re a bit uneasy…