Films!

Welcome to the Oscar race. While nominations are yet to be announced, the never-ending talks for these movies might predict the whole set (remember how films like Brokeback Mountain, Little Miss Sunshine, No Country For Old Men, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Slumdog Millionaire were lobbied on their respective years?).

Among the films in buzz, I already saw Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds.

I watched it alone (as in I'm the only one inside the cold theater) while my friends saw Avatar. It was the 23rd of December and I felt that I can still see Avatar come January. If I have time, I'll write a comprehensive review on Inglourious but as of now I can only say MAGNIFICENT as a reaction. Give the film, its creators and the actors  the nomination!

Here are the other films that I still need to watch:

The Divine

Pigging out aside, I spent most of my holiday vacation thinking of my future film projects in the next three months. I must emphasize the thinking phase because I never had the chance to actualize them into words. I hope that this exercise can give me a clearer picture of what I really want to do. I never made a short film in two years so I felt a little rustic and self-conscious about my capabilities as a filmmaker. I felt the enthusiasm that once fired me up had been put off and I am having a hard time rekindling it again. I know the passion is still there, I just need some restarting.

So one of my projects this semester is a 2-7 minute short film. I immediately remembered the idea I pitched to my friends Joe, Jed and Kat six months ago. I was delighted upon learning that they liked it but I have my own fears so the whole thing was shelved and I thought I wouldn't do it... but now when the concept comes really handy.

Writing For Bread... Not Anymore

I can't remember the last time I've written for pleasure. When I said "pleasure" I meant outside the perimeters of the obligation of work. Most people have the common misunderstanding that writers always love what they do as long as they churn out words, thus factoring out concepts of interests and mood. The latter item, I am more weary. I remembered the time I asked Prof. Charlson Ong, my creative writing instructor, about his greatest inspiration in writing. With no regrets, he spat "deadline" on our faces. Truly, I who've been working in the publishing industry have been struggling to love deadline as inspiration. And it's hard, freaking hard.

It's weird that the creative industry has shifted its focus from what people can produce to how fast they could churn out products. I envy artists who can take the backseat and impose own deadlines for their creations without the fear of getting broke the other day. For one to become a full-time artist, it's either one's born with a silver spoon in his/her mouth or one's a great risk taker - "the stereotypical I don't give a fuck on money as long as I love what I do" artist. It pays to be idealistic and subversive but how can we pursue our passions without money to back us up?

Ten Years Ago

This time ten years ago, I am a pimply sophomore high school student. I recalled how the world had become excited while at the same time so paranoid as the new millennium peeked in. Blame the paranoia to the Y2K Bug that haven't actualized. The scenario made me understand how we sometimes exert tumultuous fears on certain phenomena that are simply weaved by our imagination.

Naturally, the nostalgia bug had hit me again. I scoured YouTube for some of the most memorable coverages of New Year celebrations of different countries come 2000. I remembered seeing these clips on TV ten years ago and it's so amazing to see how these nations, separated by distance and cultures, seem to be like one in this montage of clips.

Feast and reminisce:

December 31, 2009

The best time to start a new blog is on the last day of the year. Nah, I just made that up. I'm just making the most out of this day of forced reminiscence of a year that's only hours away from unfolding. I missed this boredom: for me, who spent the whole year wishing for a perpetual me-time, moments of timidity are gold.

So what exactly am I doing now? Asking the heavens to screw those insipid beings who invented commercialism. While they are in fact already dead to be screwed again, they should be penalized for turning the creative bunch who dishearteningly jumped in the commercial bandwagon into factory workers of words and artworks.