11.28.09

Breaking News

Posted in Fascism, Personal, Poetry, Politics tagged , , , , , , , , at 2:55 am by Katrina Macapagal

Breaking News
(Katrina Macapagal)

I.
Shortly
after we celebrated
the boxer who nabbed
another world title,
we gaped at his wife
who sobbed in church,
and swapped stories
about the other woman.
Seems like the slaughter
in the twelfth round
spilled outside
the boxing ring,
to the delight of
our new intellectuals
(a boy and the daughter
of the dead matriarch),
who ran out of opinions
when the flood
of philantrophic acts
subsided. Nobody
had forseen
that the frenzy
would be
interrupted
by faint gunfire
and cries from
fifty-seven dead,
buried somewhere
far from sight.
After all, we imagined,
a tragedy isn’t a tragedy
if it doesn’t happen
on TV.

II.
And so we heard
about the massacre
that occured in a place
where Progress is a forgotten word,
where victory
belongs to the lord who owns more
gold and bullets
than the lord next-door.
The killing spree was quiet
and swift, muffled
by the bloodied soil
turned into a secret grave
for men and women
who were just passing through,
and who never thought
that doing what they had to do
was a crime punishable by death.
He who uttered
the order to shoot knew
that this, too, shall be ignored–
this was but a fair exchange
for a job well done
a few years past, when he made sure
that all ballots bore
the president’s name.
When he visited the palace
of his queen, she shook
his hand to seal the deal.

III.
What of good news? Just when some
have boldly proclaimed
that where we come from
everyone’s a hero (says ABS, GMA,
and of course, CNN),
we find ourselves
stunned that such savagery
still exists
in this day and age. Perhaps
we always knew,
we just failed to imagine
that the worst tragedies
are those that strike
after momentary victories.
On TV, we watch an
all-too-familiar spiel:
I am sorry, all will be well. But
we know enough
to see what the camera doesn’t show–
trembling hands smeared
with the blood of the dead.

10.22.09

Best scenes in 500 Days of Summer (and then some)

Posted in Film, Media, Music, Personal, Pop Culture tagged , , , at 3:47 am by Katrina Macapagal

My top 5 best scenes in 500 Days of Summer
1) Train scene
2) Split screen (expectations vs. reality)
3) “It’s love, not Santa Claus”
4) JGL dance routine to “You Make My Dreams”
5) “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”
6) JGL singing “Here Comes Your Man” (The Pixies)

9325_129433582907_786362907_2388693_5838749_n

Finally, 500 Days of Summer is being shown in local cinemas. I managed to watch it already about a month ago through torrents download–crappy quality but good enough (if you can ignore the watermarks). I’m planning to watch it on the big screen tomorrow, so in light of that here are some of the scenes I’m looking forward to watching again:

Top 5:

1) Train scene-because it reminded me of Before Sunrise. I like how this scene highlights the contradiction between the fast-paced train versus and the seemingly slow movements/human interaction inside the train.


the architecture of happiness

Screen cap grabbed from Jayson Fajarda's album in facebook

2) Split screen (Expectations vs. Reality)-This scene killed me! I’m sure we’ve seen this before in other movies, but it was perfect for this movie in particular. It sealed the deal that this movie will be the formulaic indie love story movie (next to Garden State). It also revealed that the movie was indeed directed by a music video director. The entire movie actually seemed like an extended music video.

esq-500-days-summer-0609-lg

3) “It’s love, not Santa Claus” -The line that captured the personality of Tom: the hopeless romantic bordering on pathetic who believes in soulmates, true love, and perhaps even Santa Claus.

4) ”To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”-The scene that captured the personality of Summer: kooky, weird, free-spirited girl, totally unlike Tom. A bit of a bitch in the end, if you ask me.

5) Bench scene-The part when Tom and Summer saw each other again after some time, and Summer delivered the killer line: “What I was never sure of with you.” Won’t write the whole dialogue exchange here because I don’t want to spoil the movie for you, but this was the most painful, heartbreaking, and enlightening line in the movie. Watch out for JGL’s reaction to this line, he nailed it!

500-days-of-summer-bench-tom

Some other notable scenes:

6) JGL singing “Here Comes Your Man” (The Pixies)-Especially the part when he flipped his hair. Gad, seems like this guy is looking more and more like Heath Ledger, don’t you think?

7) But of course, that Dance scene! Because silly fun dance routines rock!

8) Tom looking at Summer who was crying after watching the final scene from The Graduate. (My friend Sarah pointed out that this is one of the most revealing scenes in the movie). This part hinted at what would eventually happen in the end given that they had different “ways of seeing” things.


500-days-of-summer-soundtrack-artwork-400x399

If you already have the soundtrack, I think it makes more sense after you’ve seen the movie. Regina Spektor’s “Us” and The Smiths’ “Please Let Me Get What I Want” are perfect for the movie’s plot. I’m not too crazy about Zooey Deschanel’s remake of “Please Let Me Get…”, though.

A few complaints, though. I wish they dropped the precocious younger sister character and the stereotypical douchebag best friend. As my friend Jayson pointed out, Dakota Fanning is so over. And the best friend character can be annoying in some instances.

Still, all in all, this movie would be in my Top 10 films of 2009. Totally looking forward to watching this movie again, with better video and audio quality.

So what are your favorite scenes?

09.29.09

Fuck you, Ondoy!

Posted in Friends, Life in general, Media, Personal, Politics, UP tagged , , , , , at 3:01 am by Katrina Macapagal

Even though Typhoon Ondoy has left the country (heads up, Vietnam!), I’m pretty sure a lot of us are still reeling from the tragedy, still muttering a series of expletives under our breaths, the same expletives exclaimed during the heavy downpour. Holy crap. Holy fuck. Tangina. Who would have thought that a tragedy like this would happen? It was mad, mad, mad rain.

On September 26, Saturday morning, I woke up with a text message from my professor in MA class: “Malakas ang bagyo. Wag na tayo mag-klase mamaya, make-up na lang next week.”  I was thankful that my class was cancelled because I wasn’t finished with the paper due that day. I was also planning to check papers that afternoon, so it was a welcome break for me. Like most of us, I didn’t think much of the rain. I thought it would stop soon enough. So when I saw a video on youtube of a car being swept away in what was left of Katipunan avenue, I was still in disbelief.
submerged cars

Just one of the many streets that were flooded by Typhoon Ondoy. Several videos uploaded in youtube show abandoned cars being submerged as the floods rose.

The barrage of images that we’ve seen in the past two days seems to have come straight out of a doomsday movie, especially for those of us who were fortunate enough to remain on dry land. I can never claim to know how it must have been like for those who actually experienced the tragedy, those who scrambled to bring their furniture to higher ground, those who clambered to the roofs of their houses when the water started seeping in, those who saw with their own eyes how their loved ones drowned in the flood. I can only imagine how that must have been like. In this case, no amount of imagining can ever really capture what happened in reality.

Filipino children stand stranded on the top of building escaping floodwaters brought by Tropical Storm Ketsana

Filipino children stand stranded on the top of building escaping floodwaters brought by Tropical Storm Ketsana

Residents cross a flooded highway in the town of Cainta in Rizal province

Residents cross a flooded highway in the town of Cainta in Rizal province

We were all caught by surprise. Typhoon Ondoy left a lot of people homeless, enraged, and heartbroken. The death toll has reached over a hundred. People, including children, are still missing. Areas in Cainta, Marikina, and Pasig are still submerged in water. Residents in the most affected areas are still waiting for electricity and clean water. In Provident Village, Marikina, there are reports that robbers are trying to break into houses now that the flood had subsided.

Some analysts are saying that Typhoon Ondoy is our version of Hurricane Katrina. The mad rain that Ondoy brought was, in fact, stronger than that of Hurricane Katrina’s: According to a Reuters report: “ The weather bureau said Ketsana [Ondoy] brought the heaviest rainfall in the country in 40 years. About 410 mm of rain fell in 24 hours on Saturday, twice the amount that drenched the United States during Hurricane Katrina in 2005.”

But the analogy does not stop there. Many say that the Philippine government’s response, or lack thereof, to Typhoon Ondoy is similar to the Bush administration’s handling of the Katrina tragedy. The Philippine government does not have enough money and resources for an emergency like Ondoy. In a report titled “Philippine overwhelmed by flood disaster“ we find out that “The Philippine government says it cannot cope with the massive flooding that has displaced nearly half a million people…” So now, as always, the government is imploring private sector and international organizations to help save the current administration’s ass.

Quoted from the Reuter’s report titled  ”Philippines seeks typhoon aid, battles to avoid backlash:”

“This will have a big political impact on the government,” Ramon Casiple, executive director of the Instiute for Political and Electoral Reform, told Reuters, adding it could further sink the popularity of the administration.”

“People are wondering how the government spent its budget for flood control projects. The government was caught unprepared by the heavy rain brought by the typhoon.”

A flood of people east of Manila try to escape the disaster. Photo: AP

A flood of people east of Manila try to escape the disaster. Photo: AP

So where exactly did the government spend its budget for flood control projects and emergencies like Typhoon Ondoy? Since this is the most secretive, non-transparent administration to date, we don’t really know. But we can come up with intelligent theories. Here’s one idea: “GMA used P800-million emergency fund for foreign trips.” I suppose it’s safe to assume that the devastation caused by Typhoon Ondoy qualifies as an “emergency.” So where the hell is our P800-million emergency fund? And what the hell is GMA doing to address this mess? I hope she’s isn’t planning another overseas trip.

According to reports on prime time news earlier, GMA is already visiting some of the most devastated areas in the metro and has been facilitating meetings to consolidate relief operations. Planning is fine, but these plans won’t come about if we don’t have the funds to pursue them.

We may not know what GMA was doing when Ondoy hit the country, but we do know what GMA’s son, Congressman Mikey Arroyo was doing the day after the country got hit by the most terrible storm in forty years:
Mikey Arroyo's version of panic-buying

At Rustan's: Mikey Arroyo, seemingly in high "spirits." The first gentleman's version of panic-buying.

Apart from the Arroyos, Manny Villar and other seemingly unaffected happy campers (i.e. Gordon),  are using this tragedy to advance their political ambitions. What better time to show concern for the voting public than the day after the flood?
Tulong (raw) mula kay Manny Villar

Tulong (raw) mula kay Manny Villar

Despite shameless displays of philantrophy from our beloved politicians, the spirit of volunteerism seems to be at an all-time high. As Dickens would have put it, these are the worst of times, but these can also turn out to be the best of times. Heroes are born out of tragedies. For instance, we’ve heard the brave story of Muelmar Magallanes in this report: ”An 18-year-old construction worker braved rampaging floods in the Philippines to save more than 30 people, but ended up sacrificing his life in a last trip to rescue a baby girl and her mother who were being swept away on a styrofoam box.”

We find other heroes in non-government organizations and disaster relief groups that have been working non-stop in the aftermath. I’ve seen the usual announcements from Red Cross, but a few small-scale groups have also been organizing relief operations and fund-raisers for the victims of Ondoy. Media outfits have also entered the picture. On television, updates from ABS-CBN’s Sagip Kapamilya operation are aired regularly, complete with celebrity appearances including the ever- ubiquitous Kris Aquino.

But, as always, philanthropy is never as happy or glamorous as it seems. As Roland Tolentino puts it in a recent column:

“Kaya ang itatampok ay ang bayanihan, na ang atas ng panahon ng disaster ay pakikipagtulungan at pakikipagkapwa-tao. Ito ang ethos ng telethon, ang kumbersyon ng regular na palabas sa sistematikong pagdulog sa taong may ginhawa para magbigay ng kanyang labis sa taong walang ginhawa…”

And that, I suppose, is the caveat, the fair warning. Behind the spirit of bayanihan, which is all well and good, something that we can indeed be proud of, let us not forget that the very nature of philanthropy reveals that this country is comprised of a few people who have the capacity to help the greater population of the helpless (typhoon or no typhoon). Part of the widespread disbelief in the face of Typhoon Ondoy is the fact that even middle-class and upper-class areas were affected. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that class divisions have magically disappeared, as though swept away by the flood. Only a fortunate few will recover quickly. For those who do not have the resources and capital, recovery will be painfully slow.

Some are quick to say that we should “forget politics” and “unite” in times of tragedy. Unity is one thing. But forgetting politics is another. While we continue with our best efforts to help the victims of this tragedy, let us also strive to make sure that the next time something like this happens, we will be prepared. And if we aren’t, then we know that someone is to blame, someone will be held accountable. Of course, we can never really predict, exactly, the extent of nature’s wrath. But we can always anticipate that emergencies like the Ondoy typhoon are bound to happen. And when they do, the government should at least have a gameplan, and the emergency fund should be available for release promptly and in full.

So fuck you, Ondoy! Good riddance!  But as we bid farewell to the typhoon, we brace ourselves for the imminent aftermath: the daily deluge of disasters that are not caused by nature’s wrath.

*As I write this, I am thinking of ways to help my friends whose homes were wiped out by Ondoy. If you know Mark Abalos and Prech Tayag, please include them in your prayers.

09.22.09

Understanding comics

Posted in Cultural Capital, Fiction, Friends, Literature, Work at 2:45 am by Katrina Macapagal

I’m currently learning how to read comics by leeching off cultural capital from friends. I borrowed Punk Floyd’s readings in his old CL class, copied several electronic comics from Ely and Daryl, and pestered Carl with questions about superheroes. Scott Mcloud’s “Understanding Comics” has proven to be extremely helpful.

I must admit that my exposure to comics is very, very limited. I remember reading some issues that my older brother owned when I was still in elementary, some old copies of Superman, X-men, Spiderman, Hulk, and Ghost Rider. I also remember reading something on mermaids and mermen with powers, which I especially loved because of the illustration. And of course, I grew up reading Archie comics. I don’t remember the titles of the other ones I’ve read, I just remember that they featured a lot of sexed up female characters.

It was only recently that I finished reading the Sandman series and Maus, as well as Daryl’s copy of a recent version of Paul Auster’s City of Glass. From Daryl I also discovered Chicken with Plums and No News Day (? don’t remember the exact title right now, but it’s a chick lit type of comic book). I already have electronic copies of the must-reads: Watchmen, V, and From Hell, the list is getting longer by the minute and I’m already getting flustered because I don’t know what to start with. Thanks Da!

My primary motivation, besides accumulating cultural capital, is that I have to facilitate a discussion on the graphic novel in my intro to lit class. I say facilitate, because at this point I don’t think I know enough to actually “discuss” this genre – I’m practically starting from scratch. Still, I hope I can (and must!) load up on the basics by the end of this month, since I reserved the last week of the semester for this topic. Wish me luck!

09.20.09

The year the music died

Posted in Music, Personal, Pop Culture at 10:27 pm by Katrina Macapagal

And another one bites the dust. I learned the other day that Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary died due to cancer.

Among the recent celebrity deaths, this one hit a nerve. I’ve always loved Peter, Paul and Mary, I grew up listening to their songs because my father digs folk music. It’s a well-known fact that folk music owes  a lot to PPM for popularizing Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind and The Times They are A-Changing. And who can forget If I Had Hammer, Puff the Magic Dragon, and PPM’s version of Pete Seeger’s Where Have All the Flowers Gone? I think PPM is one of the few artists/groups that continued to perform in protest gigs even after the folk period. Although the group’s political commitment is, perhaps, limited, we can never deny the impact that their songs have made throughout the years.

image from NY times

image from NY times

Peter, Paul and Mary

image from NY times

Mary was the coolest member of PPM (she was the group’s “sex appeal,” according to reports) , with her bob and beatnik look, and her signature fist-clenching gesture. And of course, her voice was just fabulous.

It seems that 2009 is turning out to be the year the music died (ala the day the music died), starting with the death of local artists earlier this year  (Francis M, Susan Fernandez) and of course, Michael Jackson. Heaven should be rockin’ out right now.

Rest in peace, Mary.

09.09.09

Another little project

Posted in Fiction, Personal, Pop Culture, Theory, Writing Exercises tagged , , , , , , at 2:44 am by Katrina Macapagal

Because today was a very stressful day, I wanted to write a quick and rather senseless journal-ish blab about work and how I’ve been feeling this past month. And so I ended up writing the entry below, which after reading I decided to convert into another little project called “Monolgoues,” which I tried to do by adding a profile to the speaker and tweaking what initially should have been my own work-related rant (which theoretically, is of course, still my own work-related rant, even though I added that fictional profile). NOT very original, obviously, total rip-off from Mcsweeney’s “Short Imagined Monologues,” much like my writing exercises categorized as Very Short Stories, which I tried to pattern after Dave Egger’s Very Short Stories in The Guardian and the intros of The Best American Non-Required Reading. No matter, I’d like to believe that we all get our ideas here and there, although I would never claim that these writing exercises originated from my own fresh ideas, as I already mentioned.  And yes, I like writing short fiction, which I file under writing exercises in the hope that I will someday revise or develop them into longer stories. So there you go, the launch of another little writing project, hooray.

P.S. I’m on to Season 5 of the Gilmore Girls DVD set, and I was thrilled to see posters of Derrida and Dave Eggers posted on Rory’s dorm room at Yale. Fan girl mode at the Eggers poster, but I’m wondering what statement the Derrida poster was supposed to say about Rory Gilmore’s personality. Not once have I heard a dialogue about Derrida in Rory’s literature classes, probably because those classes don’t really have anything to do with the show’s conflicts. More of those fictional classroom discussions would have been super, though. I’m trying not to finish season 5 too fast, because that would mean I’d only have one last season to go. Still, I’m glad that Logan already showed up, though it’s also quite disappointing because I think that he’s just too much of a pretty boy for Rory. So anyway, that’s all I had to say in this totally irrelevant post-script.

Monologue # 1: Tired

Posted in Fiction, Life in general, Work, Writing Exercises tagged , , at 2:12 am by Katrina Macapagal

Monologue # 1: Tired

Retort of Sophia, young call-center agent, 21, college drop-out, when asked by her Team Leader to explain why she fell asleep in the middle of a phone conversation with an American middle-aged male customer who wouldv’e bought the company’s newest exercise product, if only Sophia had answered his question about the bonus features of this revolutionary exercise ball that the company was selling:

“I’m young, I’m restless, and I’m tired. I hate people who claim they’re tired when they have everything in the world going for them in terms of capital (all kinds: monetary, cultural, social). When I say, “I am tired,” I mean tired in a fleeting way, with the full awareness that this shall pass, and that no matter how “tired” I may be feeling now, there are people out there who can claim this with legitimacy. And so, with full awareness of my middle-class sensibilities, let me say that I am tired, yes, but I know that this is just for today, and that there will be other equally, and definitely more tiring, days to come. Just for today I shall allow myself to claim the word. There are so many little things to do that will come crashing down in one big pile, and I’m resolved to cross those things off my list, one by one, day by day, in the best way I can. By “best” I mean, the best of my potential, to the fullest, until I’ve wracked my brain and stretched and pulled my muscles enough to say at the end of the day: “Well, today, given this particular task, I did my absolute best, in all honesty and sincerity, in the most genuine sense of the words “absolute,” “best,” “honesty,” and “sincerity. And if that isn’t enough then I don’t know what is. So fuck off, whoever you are who can never be pleased. I have no regrets, no regrets, no regrets, whatsoever, because dammit I did my best, thank you very much. And I mean this from the bottom of my heart. So, am I fired?”

09.05.09

The organized space I wish I had at this very moment

Posted in Consumerism, Personal tagged , , at 11:09 pm by Katrina Macapagal

wall calendar

I’ve always wanted a reusable/eraseable wall calendar. I read somewhere that a wall like this needs special paint like the kind used on blackboards.
Image from this link.

09.04.09

Rushing

Posted in Life in general, Personal tagged , , at 2:02 am by Katrina Macapagal

While I hate rushing things because I find myself chain-smoking/overloading on caffeine, I also like working with deadlines because at least I know for sure that by a specified time in the near future I shall be done and over with a particular task. But now I’m thinking that maybe I should start training myself to work through “installments,” because that’s the most logical/non-tiring manner of going about these tasks. Now that I’ve been working for almost three years I feel like my work discipline is the fluctuating kind: sometimes I’m on top of things, but after a productive week or two, I slack off and reward myself with fiction books, dvd marathons, and countless hours of doing absolutely nothing productive. There are too many things to do because I’ve put them off, so the blame rests entirely on me. Lazy, lazy. I always keep saying that tomorrow will be a more productive day but that just never transpires. Big Heavy Sigh. And the paper stack just keeps getting heavier and heavier. I wish the day will come when we can all just work on things that we really love doing, minus the bureaucracy and office politics. Hay! First thing on the to-do list that I must really, really work on is to wake up early. Life would be so much better, I think, if I start my days earlier than usual. 7AM everyday should work, shouldn’t it?

09.01.09

The Corrections

Posted in Academe, Cultural Capital, Fiction, Literature, Theory tagged , , , at 12:11 am by Katrina Macapagal

Here’s a funny excerpt from Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections, which I got for P20 at a Cubao booksale. It’s from the first chapter of the novel which narrates the story of Chip Lambert, a professor who lost his tenure because he had sexual relations with a student. He went broke, became semi-alcoholic, and hooked up with a girl named Julia at the expense of the impressive book collection expressed in this paragraph:

“It was pathetically obvious that he’d believed his books would fetch him hundreds of dollats. He turned away from their reproachful spines, remembering how each of them had called out in a bookstore with a promise of radical critique of late-capitalist society, and how happy he’d been to take them home. But Jurgen Habermas didn’t have Julias’ long, cool, pear-tree limbs, Theodor Adorno didn’t have Julia’s grapy smell of lecherous pliability, Fred Jameson didn’t have Julia’s artful tongue. By the beginning of October, when Chip sent his finished script to Eden Procuro, he’s sold his feminists, his formalists, his structuralists, his poststructuralists, his Freudians, and his queers. To raise money for lunch for his parents and Denise, all he had left was his beloved cultural historians and his complete hard-covered Arden Shakespeare; and because a kind of magic resided in Shakespear–the uniform volumes in their pale blue jackets went like an archipelago of safe retreats–he piled his Foucault and Greenblatt and hooks and Pooevey into shopping bags and sold them all for $115.” (p.92)

FYI, the first set of books this ex-prof character sold for a mere $65 was his Marxists, an act which Franzen described in this manner: “he purged the Marxists from his bookshelves…”

So that explains where cheap theory books in book sales come from!  Hehe.

the corrections

08.31.09

Knock, knock.

Posted in Life in general, Personal, Work tagged at 11:36 pm by Katrina Macapagal

There’s this old joke about a boy who refuses to go to school. It starts off with the typical morning dialogue: mother insists that the boy should get ready for school, bratty boy reiterates that he doesn’t want to go to school. And then the punchline: Mother tells the child that he has to go to school…because he’s the principal. Haha! End joke.

I find this joke both funny and truthful. If one day you suddenly find yourself teaching, you will realize soon enough that there will be days when you wouldn’t want to go to school – not because you hate the job, but because you like doing what you do, and you don’t want to fuck things up by going to class unprepared. Teaching is performative, every day is like “report day” on your end, you’re the one in charge, you feel like the students will see right through you if you try to bluff your way through the period.

Sometimes I feel like I’m just playing grown-up, that everything I’m doing now is just happening in my mind. When I was still studying I thrived in the idea that I could always cut class if I didn’t feel like going (an option that I took advantage of several times). Now, of course, there’s more at stake. It’s not just a matter of grades, it’s a matter of livelihood – this time,  it’s my job that’s on the line. And when the papers start piling up, that’s when I realize, again and again, that all this is real and that those kids are, in fact, my students. Pressure, pressure!

Not that I’m unhappy where I am right now. I get a nice feeling when the ball starts rolling, I’m in my element, and the kids seem to get what I’m trying to tell them. But sometimes I still get nervous right before stepping into a classroom, which I’d like to think is a good sign, because it tells me that I am taking this seriously enough to get nervous about it.

Anyway, so that’s one section down, two more sections to go (translation: 56 3-page papers to check, one more set of papers coming in tomorrow).

08.25.09

It’s love, not Santa Claus.

Posted in Cultural Capital, Film, Love, Media, Personal, Pop Culture tagged , , at 3:52 am by Katrina Macapagal

-So you have a boyfriend?
-No, who needs it? We’re young, might as well have fun while we can.
-Wait, wait, what happens if you fall in love?
-You don’t believe that, do you?
-What? It’s love, it’s not Santa Claus.

Beer Pressure

Posted in Friends, Life in general, Personal, Vices tagged , , , at 3:24 am by Katrina Macapagal

I’ve always thought that developing a liking for beer is an acquired taste. The first time I tasted beer, (I was 13 maybe?) I thought it was nasty. But I pulled myself together when I turned 17 : I was out with a crush who was about 5 years older than me, so I forced myself to drink San Mig Light out of a dire need to impress upon him that I was old enough to like beer instead of the usual iced tea, ergo I was old enough for him to like me. Loser/eager-beaver move, I know. We never hooked up, of course, but I went on drinking because that’s what undergrads do, hahaha, and because there was nothing else better to do at that time. Who would spend a Friday night reading instead of hanging out at a dingy beer place? (Read: Sarah’s). Later I realized that beer is an expensive vice, more expensive than smoking (but I am aware that if I find the time to compute just how much I spend on cigarettes I would realize I’ve spent a fortune), so I learned how to drink sparingly: Just order a bottle or two, look like you’ve drunk way more than two bottles, slur a little maybe or think of weird things to say, and by the end of the night you’d end up not spending too much compared to your drinking buddies. I tried drinking gin for a while, but I realized later that beer is safer for the liver, so even though hard drinks are cheaper when shared, I usually just end up ordering beer because it’s more “healthy.”

Tonight I drank a few bottles with C who was talking about his bitch of an ex, and he pointed out that he has been on drinking sprees since his ex broke up with him (which means he’s been drinking consistently for a month now). That made me realize that I myself “unlearned” my acquired taste for beer when L and I got together, perhaps because that was just the natural course of things when people get together. It wasn’t something that he forced upon me, I think it was because there was no longer any need to impress anyone. We learned to just hang out and let loose, with or without beer. Instead of drinking we’d just have dinner, watch movies, and talk over coffee.

The few times that L and I do drink together, it’s when we’re out with friends. Of course, I can still name a few instances when I really wanted a drink: when L and I had our first major (two-year-itch) fight and when there was free beer at some gig. These days I would only drink beer out of politeness to friends who host parties or some similar event. But when things are generally a-ok, I just opt for coffee and conversation. If I do go out for beer, I would have to make sure that my mind is programmed for this specific agenda, otherwise I would get drunk quickly and end up being loud and stupid for the rest of night.

Recently, since L is busy with his painting, I find that I have more time to myself so I end up drinking a bottle or two (or three or four) with some friends whose acquired taste for beer has lasted long after undergrad years. I know perfectly well that there’s nothing wrong with that, in fact beer sessions are quite amusing and educational in a way, because people say the most interesting things when they’re drunk. I remember what my father often says: Don’t go out drinking for nothing. “Pag makikipag-inuman ka, dapat yung dun sa may matututunan ka naman.” (This kind of statement is very consistent with my father’s personality, at least for those who know him, he’d say stuff like this on just about any topic: e.g. When you drink beer, always ask for a glass, don’t drink from the bottle, because you’re a lady and only loose girls drink straight from beer bottles; or Don’t use Jovan because that perfume is the kind that prostitutes wear, etcetera. More on my father’s quirky statements in another entry).

I don’t know why people keep saying that beer tastes good, when objectively, it doesn’t (some brands even remind me of piss). The only time beer tastes good is when you’re out with good friends who can sustain substantial conversation. If that second element is missing, all you’d end up with is a hangover and a growing beer belly.

08.23.09

Cat’s Eye

Posted in Cultural Capital, Family, Fiction, Gender, Literature, Personal, Pop Culture at 3:37 am by Katrina Macapagal

I finally finished reading Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, thanks to the long holiday (Sidebar: In an effort to appease the nation, Arroyo declared Ninoy Aquino day a non-working holiday). As always, Atwood’s writing is lucid and poignant, and among her novels that I’ve read, Cat’s Eye is especially piercing.

Cats_eye

The narrator in the novel is Elaine Risley, a female, although not necessarily feminist, surrealist painter. The story develops through Elaine’s recollection of her life, from her childhood in Toronto to her eventual relocation to Vancouver. She remembers her childhood, growing up before and after the war, her parents, her older brother, her childhood friends, her neighbors, lovers, etcetera. But most of all she remembers her oldest friend, Cordelia, her “best friend”/tormenter/anti-thesis/arch-nemesis.

Through the development of the characters of Elaine and Cordelia, the novel is both an exposition and a critique of several aspects of women’s social construction in patriarchal society. The primary exposition, I think, is how women are made to turn against each other very early on in our lives through institutions like the family, school, and the church.

In preschool, Elaine remembers how she found it strange that there were separate areas for boys and girls. She also reflects on how her relationship with her older brother changes as they both grow up, and although it’s made clear in the novel that the siblings remain close all throughout, Stephen’s character is Elaine’s glimpse into the the “other” world of boys, which is juxtaposed, subtly, with Elaine’s relationship with her childhood girl friends.

Cat’s Eye is like Mean Girls, 40’s version, crueler and more vicious because the characters are younger. The cruelty begins very very early on, when Elaine was merely six years old. In one chapter of the story, Elaine is playing with her friend, Grace–they were cutting out women from magazines and brochures, trying to visualize what their future bodies would look like through those images. Elaine “learns” in her initial interactions with Grace that there has to be something “wrong” with her so that Grace will like her. When Grace points out that there’s something in her body that she doesn’t like, Elaine learns that she also has to point to something in her body that she doesn’t like. Later on, two other girls join the group, and at this point the story introduces Cordelia, the Queen Bee in this clique of six-year-olds.

It’s described in the novel that Cordelia’s family is rather rich, relative to those of Elaine’s and the other girls, and this is, I think, is where Cordelia drew her power, although this is never explicity articulated by Elaine in her six-year-old voice. Cordelia eventually takes over the group and institutionalizes “improvement” days. Most of the time, it’s Elaine’s day to be “improved.” The exchanges between Elaine and Cordelia are biting, and as I was reading those parts I would literally wince, even cringe, whenever Cordelia would twist Elaine’s words so that she would have to be “improved.” If Cordelia asks a yes or no question and Elaine’s answer was “I don’t know,” Cordelia would say that she had to be improved. Elaine’s acts of improvement include standing alone against the school wall, scraping of her lips till they bled, and worse, peeling off the skin of her feet. When it isn’t Elaine’s day to be improved, she would participate in improving her other friends, and the six-year-old persona admits to feeling something good when her other friends are made to suffer what she has gone through, because in as much as Elaine didn’t like Cordelia, she also wanted her approval.

One gripping part of the story was when the girls were digging a hole in Cordelia’s backyard. Cordelia didn’t tell them what the hole was for, but the girls did as they were told. Elaine asked a question or said something that irked Cordelia, for some reason (I can’t remember what it was), Cordelia suddenly asked Elaine to go down the hole. Cordelia and the others sealed the hole and left Elaine for hours, until it was already dark. Elaine couldn’t explain why her friends left her trapped in that hole, and she actually thought that it was her fault that she had to be improved.

The most horrifying and crucial part of the story, which I also consider the turning/tipping point in both Elaine and Cordelia’s young lives, occured during winter, when they were 7 years old, (if I remember correctly). The girls were playing in the snow, and they seemed to be having fun until Cordelia thought Elaine was laughing at her for rolling down the snow. As they were walking on a bridge over a ravine, Cordelia grabbed Elaine’s hat and threw it down the frozen stream. With that, Cordelia dared Elaine to climb down the ravine to retrieve her hat, reminding Elaine that she had to retrieve it because her parents will berate her for losing it if she doesn’t. As Elaine was contemplating on what to do, she actually believed that Cordelia was “encouraging” her to do it, as a good friend would. So Elaine went down to retrieve her hat, but as she did the ice cracked and she fell in the ice-cold water. As she was sinking in the water and was desperately calling for help, Elaine realized that Cordelia and the others had already left. By some miracle and strong will, Elaine was able to survive that incident, but that was when she finally decided that she would no longer be friends with Cordelia.

Imagine if something like this happened to you when you were six years old. It would scar you for life, and that’s precisely what happened to Elaine. The second half of the novel details how Elaine tries to pull herself together from the traumas of her childhood. In the next few years Cordelia would reappear in Elaine’s life, through high school and every now and then through her college years, but in the years following the incident at the ravine, it was Elaine who turned into Cordelia. Cordelia, at the end of the novel, shrivelled up and made nothing of her life, while Elaine became a celebrated artist. The ending of the novel suggests that Cordelia committed suicide.

What strikes me about Cat’s Eye is how well Atwood was able to describe this vicious dynamics among girls, that even at a period in our lives when we are not yet conscious about these things, we are actually slowly being introduced to the concepts of insecurity and hate. At one point in the novel, Elaine articulates that she couldn’t even grasp the concept of “sisterhood.” Her experience with Cordelia was that memory looking over her shoulder in all her future relationships-with her parents and lovers, particularly, and her apparent inability to develop intimate friendships with other women.

Perhaps some people would read the novel as anti-feminist, because the resolution is very dark, even bordering on hopelessness. I would understand that kind of reading, however, I also think that the strength of Cat’s Eye is in its exposition, and the ending leaves it up to the readers to come to terms with themselves.

As I was reading the book, I was well aware that it appealed to me because I was reminded of my own experiences as I was growing up, and how I knew even at that time that something was wrong–I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly that was wrong. Now that I’m older I realize just how oppressive this society is to women, and I fear that this will not change unless we do something to reverse this. This is not a call for a liberal notion of  ”sisterhood” that is totally detached from other existing layers of oppression, such as class and race. But I think that a progressive reading of the novel is one which allows us to look at our own experiences, question our own positions, so that we eventually realize who/what the real enemy is. The novel is reflexive in that sense (Elaine’s paintings as representations of the women/women’s issues in  her childhood, is another aspect I think that suggests reflexivity on the part of Atwood), the novel tells us that we are Elaines, and we are also Cordelias, and we shouldn’t allow ourselves to fall into the trap of turning against each other because that’s precisely how patriarchy operates.

So with that out of the way, I’ve turned my attention to The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. I must admint that I’m totally hooked, even though the book is unfortunately in the list of Oprah’s book club.

POST SCRIPT:

The title of the book refers to a special marble, the kind that literally looks like a cat’s eye when you peer through it. In the novel, the marble is used as a metaphor for Elaine’s life.

08.20.09

Fascism at its Finest

Posted in Fascism, Media, Politics, Theory tagged , , , , , , at 5:45 am by Katrina Macapagal

“The tradition of the oppressed teaches us that the ’state of emergency’ in which we live is not the exception but the rule. We must attain to a conception of history that is in keeping with this insight. Then we shall clearly realize that it is our task to bring about a real state of emergency.“ (Walter Benjamin)

It’s no secret that  Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s administration is fascist, but with all the bad publicity she’s been getting from her overbudgeted wine and dine moments at Washington and New York, you’d think that this government would at least try to lie low for a while. But, as always, there’s no limit to the violence that the state can and shall enact on those who oppose it, regardless of the timing and circumstance.

Just this afternoon, yet another instance of state fascism took place right outside Malacanang. Around fifty students staged a lightning rally to protest GMA’s lavish dinners in the US ,with nothing on them but protest placards. In response, Presidential Security Guards violently dispersed the group and arrested around 18 of them.

A brief news report with  links to videos of the dispersal can be found here.

Below are some photos that capture this unabashedly enforced police brutality, grabbed from an album which was posted by a facebook contact. Hover on the pictures for photo credits. Although I’ve seen images of police disperals before, this batch of photos are more desettling and disturbing than most. Notice the seemingly calm and stoic faces of the policemen, in contrast with the terror-stricken faces of the students. Notice also how female protesters were harrassed, and how some protesters were literally dragged, picked up, and carried like animals.

And they say we live in a democracy. What democracy?


courtesy of aaron favila

courtesy of aaron favila 2

courtesy of aaron favila 3

courtesy of aaron favila 4

courtesy of alanah torralba

courtesy of alanah torralba 2

courtesy of alanah torralba 3

courtesy of alanah torralba 4

courtesy of danny boy pata

courtesy of danny boy pata 2

courtesy of danny boy pata 3

courtesy of junie doctor

courtesy of romeo ranoco

courtesy of romeo ranoco 2

courtesy of romeo ranoco 3

courtesy of romeo ranoco 4

courtesy of romeo ranoco 5

courtesy of romeo ranoco 6

courtesy of romeo ranoco 7

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