Eva Gabor as Duchess: my dream speaking voice.I realized this: if I'm going to be making something out of myself and earning from it, I have to learn to melt this wall of ice and actually start talking to people nicely and clearly.
Not that I don't talk to people nicely - politeness is not the issue here. I just sound as if I'm always gruffing, always uninterested, always with "gravitas." I speak like Daria but with a gruff. As in, I make sounds like "grufff..." I hate it, but I can't do without it. Maybe it's the 2 years of speaking with braces, or two years of not speaking to anyone at all, but it's within my control.
Often, to sound like I belong, I speak with hints of sward. But it does not fit me; I sound more manly than Bebe Gandanghari, because when I was about 20 lbs heavier, I thought girlishness doesn't suit me, and I continue to retort into this state of mind. Epic fail.
I want to sound more like I write, but it's odd that I'm more comfortable with writing in English and speaking in Tagalog. I can't speak fast because I trip on my words. People know this.
I can't do bubbly, cutesy-patootsie colegiala girlfriend voice even if my life depends on it. Oh no.
My goal is to sound a bit like Luna Lovegood. You know: slow, dreamy, somewhat cheery and laid-back, but painfully honest that people can take me seriously. Something that I can actually catch.
(Obviously, I can't speak rapid-fire clear like Sarah Vowell or Janeane Garofalo or Nuni, and even if I really, really try, I will never sound like the great Eva Gabor.)
I don't think it will get any more brownie points for that (especially in corporate), but compared to how I speak now, it's gonna sound more welcoming. It's not because I "want to belong," or that "I'm selling out" because I'm not as witty as I thought I am. I just want to sound like what I think and write, and I want people to understand me so my ideas get across.
But then people know me for having a personality of a crazy, serious person. I don't think that it'll matter, but changing even the tone of your voice changes perception. So I'm still thinking. But I just want to talk clearly, because I don't, and maybe even a bit warmly.
But arrrgh. I need an elocution coach.
Yeah, yeah, I know people will say, "but be yourself." Vocally, I never knew what that meant. And at 24, it's embarrassing. But I have to start somewhere.
***
Hey! J and I had our second anniversary last March 7! And what better way to celebrate it than to watch... another Zach Snyder spectacle of visual awesomeness!
Because Zach Snyder got us back together (300 is not your date movie. No. But this is how you describe his movies: not classic, not gut-wrenching, not epic, but AWESOME, as in Californian-surfer-dude-Awesome times 5.), we thought it was pretty coincidental that we'd be celebrating our anniversary with his new movie. We didn't think of watching the Eraserheads concert (now that was epic), because of the crowd, the location (MOA seaside? You kidding?), and the fact that we didn't accept tickets a notch down the "gold" area. My friends think we act like an old, old couple because we don't like open concerts anymore, and because we both dream of living in a farm someday.

I don't know why they're making a big fuss about it, but the adaptation works for me! And yes, I even read the graphic novel (it's another thing, because Alan Moore's works are always groundbreaking, belief-shattering, and shockingly good - it's been 3 years and I've never gotten over V For Vendetta the graphic novel)!
Not the best movie, but still amazing! And YAY for casting, especially with The Silk Spectres and The Comedian! They only missed on Ozymandias but it's OK because he looks like David Bowie, and I bet he has superpowers! Good enough to actually forget the sex scene (MTRCB, it's the 21st century, folks. WTF?), to forget about the original ending, to forget about the fact that they didn't shoot Nite Owl II with his O RLY! winter coat, and to forget that people have short attention spans to appreciate this Sam Spade/'30's-style detective stories. Oh, and 99 Luftballoons? And Seals and Crofts? And Bob Dylan singing during the most beautiful movie intro? And HENDRIX?
Like in 300, J can't get over the fact that people can fight naked, but then most of the guys who saw it was disturbed by the glowing buttcheeks of Dr. Manhattan anyway. And Dan/Nite Owl II. Is so adorable.
Me: Nite Owl II. Is so cute.
J: What? He's so geeky! I mean, man, what a geek!
Me: Well, you're as geeky and I like you.
J: ...
J: OK I won't comment on that.
J likes Rorschach. Too bad he's tragic.
***

Meanwhile I spend the rest of my day, trudging and working, while listening to Carla Bruni. I don't care if she's a philandering, gold-digging ex-model and current First Lady of France. I'm beginning to love her. Of course I can't understand her words (I took French 10, but the only French that I can understand are salutations), but I love her music. She's almost too whispery (and I hate singers singing in whispers because it's a trend), but I can't help but surrender to the folksy-ness of the melodies and to her very French voice.

"I got to thinking: Why do I read? That seemed an easier question. And I figured that I read because I only have one life and much as I love it, I don’t like the limitation. So I read books, especially novels, for the extra lives. By my reckoning, a good novel is an extra life lived. I’ve never fled Moscow at the approach of Napoleon’s army, but I know what that’s like. As a child I never met an escaped prisoner at a graveyard and helped him get away, but I know what that’s like. I didn’t personally fight in the Trojan War, figure out a way to end it, then spend ten years meeting cyclops, sirens, witches who turned my crew into swine, before getting home, but I remember the experience as if I’d lived it. That’s why I read books."
I'm attaching the transcript of the very first story conference between directors George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and screenwriter Laurence Kasdan, for Raiders of The Lost Ark, in 1978. Lucas and Speilberg were still young and idealistic, and hung over the success of their first blockbusters (Star Wars and Jaws, respectively).They were on a roll during these sessions: lots of ideas were zooming back and forth, and we can actually get to see the movie as a whole before even the script was written, as they discuss it - now this is a brainstorming session I'd want to participate. The fact that it was so creative, organized, focused, and solid, that makes this one post-worthy to Indy fans and non-fans alike. It is very inspiring to me as a designer who'd occasionally work with groups, because of the focus and the creativity that is pored all over this, and how Lucas, Kasdan, and Spielberg cohere their ideas into one, solid character and plotline.
Now why can't they read this before deciding to do the fourth Indy movie, or the Star Wars prequels? (I love Indy 4! It was silly, but it was like meeting old friends! They should give a Special Guest credit to the Ark of The Covenant - my family grew up with Indy, and we actully said, "OH HAI THAR ARK!") Perhaps growing old would mean that they won't even try, or they had to be serious about these things. I hope I don't grow old like that.
Recommended Read:Arnold Arre's Martial Law Babies
Being a heartfelt memoir of the kids of that generation: "too young to be responsible, too old to do anything about it."
"And then you gave it all up. We, with our penitential pilgrimages to Buchenwald, refused to write advertising copy for Coca-Cola because we were antifascists. We were content to work for peanuts at Garamond, because at least books were for the people. But you, to avenge yourselves on the bourgeoisie you hadn't managed to overthrow, sold them videocassettes and fanzines, brainwashed them with Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance... Shamelessly. While we spent our lives being ashamed. You tricked us, you didn't represent purity; it was only adolescent acne. You made us feel like worms because we lacked the courage to face the Bolivian militia, and you started shooting a few poor bastards in the back while they were walking down the street."
- Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum
I don't want to jump in because I graduated and I'm not even voting, but this is getting intense.
To the Stand-UP people: you're not the party we knew years ago. Sure, I've voted for people in your party some years back, because back then you made more sense to us than the other party - until the whole issue of stopping the administration from throwing out squatters in UP came up, and then I stopped voting. I have friends who were - and still are - supporters and party members, and they are not like you. Unlike you, these people I know are creative and productive, and would never allow themselves to sink very low and resort to name-callings and black propaganda. They value respect for opinions opposing them (or for being mildly apathetic about it, like me), and no matter how they can be preachy and pushy, you can be sure that they are more open-minded that you'd expect. And I respect them too, especially because they actually graduated from UP, went out to the world, had jobs and kept their principles to help people.
Then what I read appalled me: "Sa totoo lang? Gasgas na masyado ang konsepto ng respeto na akala na siguro nila ay applicable ito sa mga taong maraming malalaking kasalanan sa mga estudyante at sa taumbayan." WHAT? So when we disagree with you and debate, we're unworthy of your respect? Suddenly, we're all Adolf Hitler now, condemning you Jews to the ovens? Aba, you're sounding like our government officials, the very institution you're against!
And the whole Multiply discussions sound like a Jubilee Year of Intellectual Vanities with excerpts from tabloid shows. One artist whom I admire was called a *insert derogatory term for women here* for voicing her opinion against your party. The Tsinoys were subjected to racism, because you regard them as evil, heartless elitists who wanted to turn UP into Ateneo or La Salle (sure, I have a gall against pretty AS girls, but I'm an insecure wench and NOT a political party, and for the sake of community I *can* get along with them) instead of constituents and supporters to be convinced. Suddenly, Zombie Karl Marx is commenting. At first I found the squabble entertaining, but it got really, really dirty, really fast. Ano ba! You're UP students, for God's sake! You can be more mature than that!
You're accusing me of selling out to my job? Kahit nakikita kong binabastos ako ng mga guro at estudyanteng gusto kong tulungan, nagtatrabaho pa rin ako at nagbabayad pa rin ako ng tax - kahit na alam kong tigpi-piso lang siguro ang nakukuha ninyo doon dahil sa pangungurakot. I do this because I know UP students are brilliant enough deserve free speech and to hear debate and all those ideas, and UP students also deserve the proper basic things like clean bathrooms, well-lit roads, better facilities, proper study grants and building renovations - irregardless of the sectors who would want to support these. Sorry for sounding so superficial and middle-class by sounding less than "let's storm the Bastille" things, but you need these things too.
Nakakainis na. I know there will always be different opinions, given the nature of people's opposing principles. But would you always like to be crabs pulling each other's legs? Or do you want to lay down arms to be productive, to improve, to cooperate, to respect - in a very realistic way? Where are the healthy discussions where you can actually learn things (back then, you guys got me into reading about the Manhattan Project)? Are these replaced by highfalutin, out-of-context discussions that lead to words worse than what Mon Tulfo would use? Are these replaced by dirty, dirty politics? At teka lang: pumapasok ba kayo sa mga klase ninyo at ginagawa ba ninyo ang mga requirements ninyo? Kapag pinagpatuloy pa ninyo yang gawaing yan, baka wala nang mga taxpayers na gustong bayaran ang edukasyon ninyo. UP will disappear if we let this things continue - and we all love it enough to not want that.
This year, I plan to read and reread more classics for my 50 Books Challenge - starting with Boccacio's Decameron and backlog books from last year (Guterson, why are you so boring?). The greatest surprise came with the Zombie Invasion, which is totally up my alley and pretty apt with the challenge. So I guess I'll try to start rereading Austen this year.
***
Then, there's her. The "other Jane," the one whom I called "you-know-who." Or sometimes, Bette Davis.
I came to realize that at one point, I got a bit obsessive at stalking her networking accounts, somewhat spying if she's still trying to make her moves on my boyfriend (she did greet J on Friendster, and I had to erase it for J, because he was going all Pontious Pilate about it).
All I saw were pictures of shiny, happy people that are currently not meddling with our lives and minding their own; being in relationships and hopefully forgetting. I am happily disappointed (or placated, or you know) of that fact that nothing's going on, but I still can't get forget a) the past, and b) her rudeness and c) her unwillingness to talk to me and recognize me as the girlfriend.
It's hard to admit, but this thing about not letting go is creeping into the things I normally see and read, and it's annoying me. It is getting into the point that I put down a book in disgust because a character named Jane is in the lead, even if the said character has the potential to be my favorite. I am hating Spider-Man simply because of "Mary-Jane," I avoid pretty artworks by artists named Jane (in fear of not giving them the prober appreciation), I am suspicious with the real-life Janes I meet in person. Whenever I see mushy movies, I don't see myself being in the lead girl - I see myself in the usurping mother/neglected lover, and seeing her in the lead instead, frolicking with my guy. (Come to think of it, this is why I never watch mushy movies: I am NEVER gonna be the lead girl.)
Yes folks, it's that bad. Never mind my insecurities - or wait, is that the problem all along?
J accusses me of obsessively loathing her; I am merely expecing schadenfreude at most. But really, I just want to stop. Sure, I don't like her, but I don't want her hurt by my hands, or worse. Can I be a little less crazy? Can't I just get this over with now?


