Sunday, July 30, 2006

Secrets

Quid quid latet adparebit nil inultum remanebit.

Quid quid latet adparebit nil inultum remanebit.

No one can keep their secrets for so long. We will all be found out. We will all be discovered. But even if this were true, people are entitled to their secrets in the same way that they are entitled to keeping their dignity intact. It is just a matter of self-preservation in a world that can be harsh. In a world that can be unforgiving. In a world that will not understand.

It's just a matter of survival.

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Superman Returns

The revolution was not meant to be.

Jeland tells me that I should defer writing this review until I actually have the time to write it. He seems to be under the impression that I take eons to finish a single entry. Well... he's right. But that doesn't mean I can't start, anyway! One of the things I missed while I was on hiatus were my movie reviews, and now that I'm back blogging, I think it's just about time to get my thumbs dirty once again (I sincerely hope someone got that lame reference.).

Superman Returns. It's not a fact everyone knows, but I love DC more than Marvel. Marvel is but a spin-off of the once great DC. Unfortunately, the Marvel superheroes, with all their glitter and glamour and garb, managed to snatch the limelight away from the more classic features of the DC "supermen." With the recent success of Batman Begins, however, I thought that the tides were going to turn once again. DC was finally going to give Marvel a run for its money the way it used to, back in those days when the battle was fought by ink and pen and waged on glossy paper.

The revolution was not meant to be. If ever anything remotely revolutionary happened, I did not witness it, for I fell asleep three quarters of the way.

The main problem with the recent Superman was not so much as failing to give the series a fresh twist (which it also failed to do, by the way), but failing to justify its title. Yes, its title. The focus was supposed to be Superman and his return. The movie simply was not able to provide this. Of course, Superman did return, but the story did not revolve around his return. It's more like, "Superman's back. So what?" Save for a few weak scenes involving a still lovestruck Lois Lane (which wasn't all that obvious) and a still crazy Lex Luthor (which was all that pathetic), the whole movie felt like an exposition all over again. Nothing connected; everything was disjuncted.

This is not to say that the movie tanked terribly. The choice of Brandon Routh as Superman, instead of some currently famous Hollywood actor, was a fine, fine choice. Choosing an unknown actor as the Man of Steel allowed the viewers to put a face on Superman anew-- something that Christopher Reeve achieved perfectly before. The problem with this (well, it's not really not our problem but Brandon Routh's) is that, just like what happened with Christopher Reeve, the viewers will always attach Superman to the actor who plays him. Let's just say that it will be quite difficult for Brandon Routh to get a decent non-Superman-related offer after this.

Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane and Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor did their best to make their characters work, but in the end, the faulty characterization by the writers outweighed the actors' best efforts. Lois Lane was silly and Lex Luthor was weak. How pathetic was that scene where Lex was stranded in an island with his little mistress Kitty? In the TV show Smallville, and in the comic books that I've read, Lex Luthor was never, ever that helpless. He always had something up his sleeve. Depicting him as such was nothing short of a slap in the face of Superman's makers, and nothing short of an insult to those who liked Lex Luthor more than Superman (guilty as charged). And Lois Lane was silly.

I think I could say that there's really no harm in watching this movie, especially if you're a fan of the series. It's one feather in your cap to be able to say that you read all the comic magazines, collected all the toys, and watched all the movies. And not to worry-- the part about sleeping 3/4 of the way? It was true, but I did wake up 5 minutes after that little sleep spell happened. If that's any consolation.

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Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Sleepy

Everywhere I type. Everywhere I write.

Posts to follow:
1. Review of Rent, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, and Superman Returns.
2. Review of The Old Spaghetti House, Burgoo, Pizza Hut Bistro, and Jollibee Rockwell.
3. Review of Heroes of Might and Magic V.

Studies to follow:
1. Withdrawal Experience Study
2. PA Expense Study
3. Group Industry Statistics

Everywhere I type. Everywhere I write. I cannot help myself. I'll always go back to writing. Only one thing can stop me, and that is sleep. So I'll stop.

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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The Weekend That Was

The weekend that was was one of the best I have ever had.

The weekend that was was one of the best I have ever had. I met with friends I have not seen for ages; ate in places too heavenly to be true; and enjoyed myself so much it almost seemed sinful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all began Friday night when Joanne, Charline, Allan, and myself watched Pirates of the Caribbean. My review for this movie would come soon enough, so I'll reserve any specific comments then, but suffice it to say that I had enough fun to last me throughout the entire movie. It felt good watching Captain Jack Sparrow and the gang come back to life again; I have always enjoyed their presence and that has not changed one bit. [For those who cannot wait, Toj and Joanne have reviewed the movie wonderfully. Take a peek.]

Friday night gave way to Saturday morning. Saturday morning gave way to Saturday afternoon. (Let's not forget that piece of good news that occurred between Friday night and Saturday morning!)

That was when I met with Tsikee, one of the closest friends I have ever had. The last time Tsikee and I went out was during my birthday last year, and for friends this close that's just 11 months too long. However, when we finally met at The Old Spaghetti House in Katipunan last Saturday, it was as though we never left college. We talked about our lives in between scoops of seafood marinara and slices of pork in mushroom sauce, talking without any hint of awkwardness that so often befalls long-separated friends who decide to meet once again.

Saturday afternoon gave way to Saturday night.

Right after my "rendezvous" with Tsikee in Katipunan, I rushed home to meet up with Jel in Burgoo in Powerplant. It was a fitting place to treat such a wonderful and special fellow. Burgoo, with all its delicious meals and efficient service assistants, possessed the same trait as Jel has: it/he always had/has my best interests in mind. Needless to say, we enjoyed the food (grilled porkchop and seafood linguini) and the company (Jel and myself, myself and Jel) so thoroughly that time just passed us by.

Saturday night gave way to Sunday morning. Sunday morning gave way to Sunday afternoon.

Joseph and Jacques met up with me in the Pizza Hut Bistro in Gateway Sunday afternoon. Joseph and Jacques are like little brothers to me, though nowadays they sometimes seem so much more mature than I am. In any case, it was nice seeing the two of them again. As a matter of fact, it was nice seeing the three of us together again. It felt... I don't know, right? That's the closest I can come to describing whatever that feeling was. I guess I just missed those guys.

Sunday afternoon gave way to Sunday night. Sunday night gave way to Monday morning. The weekend that was was over. Not that I had a problem with the passing of this one. For one, the weekend that was would always remain with me; for another, well, there would always be another.


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Saturday, July 15, 2006

PASSED

I PASSED!

3 AM, Saturday. In front of the computer. Circles around eyes for not being able to sleep.

Click, click, click. Heart beating wildly in my chest. Thump-thump-thump-thump-THUMP. Click, click, click. Hands feeling sweaty although it's raining and it's cold. Eyesight keen, like 20/20. There! The candidate numbers! Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP. Scrolling down, scrolling down. The most important candidate number is not in sight. Scrolling up, scrolling-- THERE! 32804! The magic number! I PASSED! But wait... must be sure. Must be certain. Must have absolutely no doubt. Checking, checking. The number's still there! I really passed! Wee!

The feeling's so great I'm still stunned. Hu-waw!

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Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Flowers

Roses are red, sunflowers are yellow. Sugar is sweet, and so is Jell-O.

Roses are red, sunflowers are yellow. Sugar is sweet, and so is Jell-O.

It's embarrassing to admit it, but what the heck: sunflowers are my favorite flowers. I just discovered this recently, during one of my trips to Katipunan for my then weekly SOA study sessions. Usually, I would take the MRT-LRT route; it's faster and it's cheaper. On some occasions, though, when I'm feeling melancholic, when I feel like riding on the coattails of the wind (a little melodramatic there, hee), I take the MRT-jeepney-jeepney route. The first jeepney ride drives me to UP, where I ride the second jeepney that drives me to Katipunan. It was during the first jeepney ride when I first saw those grand sunflowers, yellow as the brightest sunshine, planted in the islands lined up all the way to UP.

Everything about them captured my attention. The flowers filled me with both fascination and awe. First of all-- man, they were huge! I've always thought of sunflowers as little living creatures that little girls place in their little baskets to toss around like confetti. I was wrong. Even the black center of each flower was colossal enough to swallow me whole. Perhaps that is partly why I'm so in awe of them: sunflowers can-- and given the chance, will-- dominate me. Nonetheless, the mathematical precision of its existence and the simplicity of its beauty all give me reason to allow myself to succumb to its domination.

Roses are another story. If sunflowers fascinate and awe me, roses profoundly touch me. But it hasn't always been this way. As a matter of fact, I have never been fond of roses before. I couldn't understand what was so beautiful about these thorny flowers. I came to the conclusion, then, that roses are not beautiful by themselves; commercialism has made it so.

But people change their minds, especially when the right event or opportunity to do so come along. And I have changed mine. A memory has been attached. A stigma has been created. Roses are now very special to me. I've said earlier that they touch me, but I take that back. They don't touch me, they pierce me, like the thorns in which they are showered.

Roses are red for they bleed. For you. For me.

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Sunday, July 09, 2006

Six-Day Work Week

...contrary to all the bravado... I thoroughly enjoyed Saturday work.

I told myself and others I would never go down that road. I told it with chest puffed out and head held high. I told it with some kind of arrogant pride. "Saturdays are days to relax and unwind," I said. "Saturdays are never, ever utilized for work."

How wrong I was. How fast I'm quickly eating the words I had just uttered.

Needless to say, I went to work yesterday. And, contrary to all the bravado that was displayed when I told people that I would never work on Saturdays, I thoroughly enjoyed Saturday work. The office seemed so peaceful-- the phones weren't ringing off the hook, the conversations were down to a negligible murmur, and the atmosphere had a dreary feel to it that I liked. The strong downpour of rain outside helped set the mood for productive work even further. Unlike in most situations where it would have induced a want for sleep, the rain made me feel as though I was its prisoner. That I was to do its bidding. That I was to work. And so I did.

I didn't finish all that I had to do, but it was a start. The push was already present, and that was all I needed in order to finish today what I had attempted to end yesterday. The good thing is, I feel great about it. I know I'll be able to do it.

All thanks to Saturday work.

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Saturday, July 08, 2006

4

Words cannot express it enough: for this, I am grateful.

He never let go. He never shrugged. Atlas may have shifted the world from one shoulder to another, but he never thought of smashing the world beneath his mighty feet.

Because of this, I remain capable of loving.

Because of this, I remain human.

Words cannot express it enough: four this, I am grateful.

Fourever.

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