Warning: This is an attempt to cure my very depressing writer's block and some people will be mentioned here. My opinions on them should not be taken personally for i do not intend to hurt them. Moreover, I am sorry if I unintentionally hurt your feelings. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! TO be honest i hate my semester this semester, i don't know maybe because of this drastic change that happened in my blog. though i knew that this is what i like, i don't get the feeling of it. i don't get the hang of it. I do not talk any more about the films the i watch, noGRILLED posts, or a topic about the medium. i wish, and only wish, to be the same again. BAd start! Bar start!
What is this pestilence that i am having, a weird concussion on my head, on my groin, on my body. Is it physical pain? the way Dr. Mischief describes it, tantalizing pain? I wish i cna be more spontaneous! more spontaneous, that is!
I know that being a male person, on gender, entails a lot of peculiarities like not so spontaneous. And the girl, the girly girl gets the prize for being more spontaneous than a guy! Well what the heck! Girls, they don't have the guts to go through hard stuffs in life. It maybe fair, gender-wise that a male individual is given a less spontaneous mind and a girl a less structured flow of ides.
I hope i can be a writer. A good writer for all in the world. i am in the process of creating a great character, actually two characters, Leonard and Marcus on my novel. I keep notes. marvin tamayao knows this, he read some of my notes on the my character development and i make sure he gave me a comment on it, not just a comment but a good criticism of their persona. How will i take their insecurities, make them flesh out, flesh out from the book and into the reader's mind so that they will actually believe them, and considers them purely realistic. I am a very curious how marcus, my very bold marcus would turn into. he is the dark force. The anti-hero. Every reader will disgusts him, some may emulate his carnal, psychopathic desires, some may curse him to be brought into the world. The idea of Marcus elludes me more than the idea of Leonard. leonard will be considerably frail, he will be frail and fragile. Weak. discontent. but he will be the hero.
But how am i suppose to plunge him into the heroic stance. A heroic battle? A heroic deed? A heroic canvass of events that largely depict leonard as the big deal, big guy, big fame. But he will be sad, which made it terribly deficult to create him. to flesh him out. to draw him to the reader. It would be very boring for the audience to read a very sad beginning. so i made a lot of changes from my first draft, looking for pitch, high enough to make it like an expanded epistle of Shakespeare.
There are loads in my thoughts that i need to dislodge before i could think of my two major characters who will be playing the chracters in my novel. Since fifteen, i was only positive that i have one character, leonard. But then, i thought, i should have two characters to point out dichotomies of human life, human existence and human fate. it is but a dichotomy, a dichotomy that is filled with wholeness, wholeness of a being, of a human beings. For there shall be one, one Mr. Cervantes, one Mr. Cervantes who will not be Leonard, nor marcus, nor Celia, nor Clarissa but he will be whole. it is the wholeness of human character that i wish to play. It will not harbor a great memory from me, but more of a perspective about human character, how it grows, how it dies, how it disinterest and interest, how it purge the incapacities of the human mind.
i felt anxious. anxiety eats me like worm, a vermin of hell, it freaks me out. It freaks the hell out of me. Maybe this is the beginning of this blockage, the trapping of the soul, the capsized destructon of the temple of my writing. I must be able to overcome this fretting obstacle. I must, i must.
i am must go into the lightness of me, find happiness, not just external happiness, but a happiness that has meaning and essence. so i bought Blaise Pascal's, HUMAN HAPPINESS essay just this afternoon at Fully booked. i hope it could make me understand my condition.
does virginia ever felt this blockage of creative energy?
Ever since she was twelve years old, she kept a diary until her suicidal death last 1941.
I remember making an essay about her and titled it, VIRGINIA's LOVER.
I have seen some good films lately, and have experience a momentus feeling of parading the mall of Trinoma at 9 o'clock PM with a purchased VAN HEUNSEN violet solid colored shirt, and a leather bag, i am very happy about it. I am almost estatic to use them so this day i went to SM North, aside from fishing for a first sentence for my essay in English 10, to wear them. I must say that i love them, i love my leather bag. i love the violet solid colored shirt. I must say that i am satisfied with them, with everything. with the humming of my heart as i drink my caramel machiatto at Starbucks a while ago, the way it enters my body, makes me feel hot, feel dislodged. Feel estatic, undefinable.
i think i am sleepy, i am getting drunk of words, drunk of the pain of not creating art, of having a bad taste.
What is this thing inside of me, a virus or something? like the virus in Naked Lunch(movie). A vermin. A hermit crab with large pinchers. I see that my eyes are closing and my confidence dropping, dropping, tik tik tik tik tik tik tik tik tik .... i wanted to hear the sounds of nature, the paddling of the sea, the waves, the wind, the rasping of the leaves of the mint and the mango tress, the pure insolent shriek of the baby on the neighboring houses, the voice of my mother calling me, the voice of my father.
I am alone in my room, isolated, untouched. I must feel alive. Feel free again, i must go on jogging tomorrow... i must wake up at six and jog. and jog, jog jog jog jog jog jog!
wikipedia says it oxygenates my blood. i hope nikko would come with me, or with carl maybe, i have no one to come with me. though, i jogged alone, i must have someone with me, talked to them, to exchange with them my thought on philosophy and minute details of my plans for the day, or the snorts of Manuel, or the quirks of Melbert, or my bisexual classmate at my _____ subject, or the Plurk things, the goodness of it, the disavantages of it, the theory of knowledge of Bertrand Russell, or my film studies' research, or this blog, this blog, this blog, this ultimate part of me, indespensable and true. I could be having a dream, a good dream tonight, cause i have released this freewriten thought from me to this blog about films and life. Film and life are a good combination, personal and film, it makes film a more legitimate form of art if there shall be a personal attachment to it to those who criticizes it, it forms a bond ot the individual like milk and honey, or stone and river, or eath and sky. A great bond, forever true.
I must sleep now!
- yes, it is happiness. Happiness is a much more strange word for me than mystery. Happiness comes in many packages and in a unexpected ways. But, take note, that happiness is not freedom. Freedom is not a matter of choice but a matter of want. But happiness is a choice. If we look at ourselves, a self-image of nation, as not happy, we end up being sad. 