Just playing around with the newspaper. These are my first attempts at blackout poems. Since I don't have a scanner at hand I just typed the words. With added punctuations. But i didn't cheat I promise!
Two Filipino marines wounded;
Two American troopers,
On a humanitarian mission,
Hit a landmine.
A known haven of extremists
Succumbed to injuries
They were not Lawmakes on the otherhand
----------------------------------------
Toward midnight
When the rains came streaming
as if from nowhere
In the dark
What caught the eye
Was the asphalt overlay
ripped loose by the strong old man
from the second part of a chain of
center
----------------------------------------
Disturbingly odd,
the man seated next to me
broke out in song--
mouthing the words he had given
to hit refrain.
Only giving one's all
He surrendered himself to the music
----------------------------------------
Well that's all I got so far. When I come up with better ones (and hopefully more presentable black outs) I will sacn and post them of course. For now I think of these lines as potential poems. Maybe I can spin them into actual (or unactual-?) poetry someday.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
What's in a name?
So, it's kind of a dead hour in the office. Not gonna lie about that and just admit it. Interestingly enough I discovered something while playing around on an app in Facebook that a friend sent. It's some avatar thing but you have to name your character. The catch is that it's a one word name, so given the amount of users, the name definitely has to be unique. Or entirely ridiculous. (You do the math, 'coz I can't). So anyway in attempting to name the said avatar, I stummble across (or purposely search for) this website of baby names. I actually typed "interesing names" in Google but this popped up so I clicked it. And here's what I discovered: a little section that gives authors advice on naming their characters. As I read the tips I can't help but nod in agreement and realization. "These tips are so useful!" I keep thinking. But useful for what? I don't exactly have the need to come up with charcter names daily right? I mean, it's just not in the job description and it certainly doesn't fall under any of the sub-activities of my hobbies and/or non-work related activities now does it? Yet I'm nodding along thinking this could have been useful. I was always terrible at naming things. Much as I love to write, my titles have always been either long, corny and/or predictable. But even more so my character's names. Which is why I often used first person perspective later on, to either prolong or avoid naming my main characters. Lest I brand them with a name that would altogether stereotype or murder my character and it's intentions. Not that that made me any less connected to my characters. I always loved them. But dubbing them so-and-so was always something that would take more time than I had. So they'd end up with half-thought out misnomers that revealed nothing of who they really were to me and the story. Needless to say I took naming my characters really seriously. Especially when we discussed in our scriptwriting class how important those were. I always took it seriously. Shakesphere may have said "What's in a name?" dismissing the power of names or their importance in defining who we are and dictating our existence. Yet even as he did so, little did he know he was dialoguing the script to a play whose title characters have forever stereotyped and/or cliched the names of romance forever. When someone calls a guy Romeo even if that isn't his name, we all know they mean the guy's a romantic. (At least for the present situation). Such irony there is in that huh? But it is true. Again I nod to the website's introduction to this section as it says "There are many literary and movie characters that become everlasting brands in our culture". Which is why I always took care to name my charcters well even if I sucked at the job.
On another note, reading about naming characters and remembering my urgency in finding the right names to match the words of my story has made me...sentimental yet again, to say the least. I remembered the lessons we had in scriptwriting or our other writing classes. The questions my teacher would ask that did not warrant much fact but more opinions. Opinions from us, as writers ourselves. I totally agreed with the fact that namin characters properly was important. I said little on the matter in the classroom to give a chance for the others to give their own input. But at the end of the day I always loved classroom discussions like that and learning that there were actually uses for my thoughts and opinions in real writing. Even our film theory classes were gratifying in revealing thories and names to match patterns I had always spotted in movies. As I remember the feeling, I reminisce on being a student. In writing scripts at 3:00 am in the morning even when my brain was dry because I had no other time to do them. Forcing the words to come out structured yet poetic and conversational at the same time was a high I'll always readily slip into. It wasn't always easy being a student. But reading tips like these reminds me of what it was like to learn in a classroom setting and to put what I learned into writing. It makes me realize, the name student was one I enjoyed, especially in college.
So students, enjoy wht you have...soon you'll have another name.
I know I sound totally geeky and cliche raving about classroom discussions that made my mind race, but if you won't name me that, then who am I to brand myself? These are just random thoughts and feelings after all. Besides, what's in a name?
On another note, reading about naming characters and remembering my urgency in finding the right names to match the words of my story has made me...sentimental yet again, to say the least. I remembered the lessons we had in scriptwriting or our other writing classes. The questions my teacher would ask that did not warrant much fact but more opinions. Opinions from us, as writers ourselves. I totally agreed with the fact that namin characters properly was important. I said little on the matter in the classroom to give a chance for the others to give their own input. But at the end of the day I always loved classroom discussions like that and learning that there were actually uses for my thoughts and opinions in real writing. Even our film theory classes were gratifying in revealing thories and names to match patterns I had always spotted in movies. As I remember the feeling, I reminisce on being a student. In writing scripts at 3:00 am in the morning even when my brain was dry because I had no other time to do them. Forcing the words to come out structured yet poetic and conversational at the same time was a high I'll always readily slip into. It wasn't always easy being a student. But reading tips like these reminds me of what it was like to learn in a classroom setting and to put what I learned into writing. It makes me realize, the name student was one I enjoyed, especially in college.
So students, enjoy wht you have...soon you'll have another name.
I know I sound totally geeky and cliche raving about classroom discussions that made my mind race, but if you won't name me that, then who am I to brand myself? These are just random thoughts and feelings after all. Besides, what's in a name?
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Pass the Message Backward
It's amazing what you can dig up from when you got through files long forgotten. I know I write a lot and have written a lot. There are many highlights. Many stories I'd like to continue. But the sheer number of essays I've written, when I think about it is amazing for a girl of 21. I don't mean I've written so much more than the average 21 year old. I've always loved words and yes, have had more than my fair share of writing, be it from scratch or an edited version of something other wrote and needed help with. But just going through all the stuff I've written and can't even remember writing---it just amazes me who stares back from those yellowed pages. Writing is a mirror for me, so to speak. It's also a photo album of my mind. But, did you ever get that feeling when looking at your pictures and just thinking "I looked like that?!" This phrase is often accompanied by feelings of embarrassment, amazement or longing. We either wish tobe back in those old days with that fresh skin or are relieved that we got through those ugly duckling stages. Well, it's kind of the same with writing. I make it a point to preserve what I can when it comes to that. Hard and soft copies. I'm a sentimental pack rat especially for stuff I made. When it comes to writing, I am especially meticulous. Not only do these works torturously show me how bad I was, but they also reveal parts of me I've long forgotten. Sometimes we need to find those dwarfed versions of ourselves. If only to bring out the kid in us or jsut remind us where we came from. That's why I keep as much as I can of my writings. But like all pack rats, I hide them away so long i forget their mere existence. Then on nights like these I stumble accross them and it's like relearning those lessons all over again. What amazes me most is the wisdom I find in what I wrote so many years ago. It's not the kind of wisdom you get from some experience or some wise older person who's experienced it all. It's the wisdom from a kid, who's got a different perspective form you because of the simple fact that she is in the thick of a situation, you got through. It just brings you down to the ground again and reminds you of those dreams you once had.
Since we're on that topic, I won't allow you to jump to the conclusion that I'm a preemptive writer, just blabbing on and on about one thing without even a decent example to show for my point. So here's a little piece of my past. It's an interesting little piece I can't even remember writing. According to the file, it's from Aug. 29 2007. It's titled Emerging Chaos. Which makes me suspect it was some assignment for a class I had in 2nd Yr college. Clearly a major subject as it's so related to communication. But not bad for a sophomore. But then that's just me. So without further ado, here's a little piece of my past:
Have you ever played that game called “Chinese Whisper”? To others it is known simply as Pass the Message. Yet the former name seems to be more explicatory and implies the outcome of the game. Simply put, when you play the game the reason for the name is quite obvious. And though, perhaps in application to media or communication “Pass the Message” is more appropriate, when we discussed gate keeping in our classes I was reminded of how my friends and I would sit in a circle and whisper intangible words to each other during our free time when I was in high school. And how, when the message reached the last person and turned totally different from the original, we would burst into a pandemonium of laughter. And I suppose that only proves how much the dissemination of information can be the cause of so much chaos.
Since we're on that topic, I won't allow you to jump to the conclusion that I'm a preemptive writer, just blabbing on and on about one thing without even a decent example to show for my point. So here's a little piece of my past. It's an interesting little piece I can't even remember writing. According to the file, it's from Aug. 29 2007. It's titled Emerging Chaos. Which makes me suspect it was some assignment for a class I had in 2nd Yr college. Clearly a major subject as it's so related to communication. But not bad for a sophomore. But then that's just me. So without further ado, here's a little piece of my past:
Have you ever played that game called “Chinese Whisper”? To others it is known simply as Pass the Message. Yet the former name seems to be more explicatory and implies the outcome of the game. Simply put, when you play the game the reason for the name is quite obvious. And though, perhaps in application to media or communication “Pass the Message” is more appropriate, when we discussed gate keeping in our classes I was reminded of how my friends and I would sit in a circle and whisper intangible words to each other during our free time when I was in high school. And how, when the message reached the last person and turned totally different from the original, we would burst into a pandemonium of laughter. And I suppose that only proves how much the dissemination of information can be the cause of so much chaos.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Memory Lanes
Blog post on Nov 16, '09 11:43 AM
(Orange words edited on Nov. 20, '09 9:57 am)
Don't feel like writing but I think I should. Because that's what writing's for. Giving me the words when there are none. I just finished chatting with a friend and digging up old memories he forgot but were somehow hidden somewhere deep within me. I am also listening to old songs from not so long ago but a different phase of my life nontheless. It's funny what these memories bring back. Or likewise what triggers those memories. Like a line from a song or a poem began and pulled out 'til you find yourself singing the whole thing even if you hadn't heard it in a long time. You find these memories are just locked deep withing you. But then the latch opens with a click of something, an old scent maybe, or a conversation with a friend--and then you find yourself unfurling memories still intact. You know them well of course, but only generally, vaugley. But just one tug and all the details, the feelings come back.
Sometimes I wish I had power over Time. To turn it back or move it forward. But sometimes all it takes is power over your memories to have power over Time. You get stuck it the past but in retrospect you see how your future turned out to be what you know as your present. Suddenly it all looks different from where you stand. And you realize, "Those low notes and high notes made a good song after all..."
(Orange words edited on Nov. 20, '09 9:57 am)
Don't feel like writing but I think I should. Because that's what writing's for. Giving me the words when there are none. I just finished chatting with a friend and digging up old memories he forgot but were somehow hidden somewhere deep within me. I am also listening to old songs from not so long ago but a different phase of my life nontheless. It's funny what these memories bring back. Or likewise what triggers those memories. Like a line from a song or a poem began and pulled out 'til you find yourself singing the whole thing even if you hadn't heard it in a long time. You find these memories are just locked deep withing you. But then the latch opens with a click of something, an old scent maybe, or a conversation with a friend--and then you find yourself unfurling memories still intact. You know them well of course, but only generally, vaugley. But just one tug and all the details, the feelings come back.
Sometimes I wish I had power over Time. To turn it back or move it forward. But sometimes all it takes is power over your memories to have power over Time. You get stuck it the past but in retrospect you see how your future turned out to be what you know as your present. Suddenly it all looks different from where you stand. And you realize, "Those low notes and high notes made a good song after all..."
Friday, July 17, 2009
Raisin Bread
A loud "ding!" rings through the air. Clear and distinct in the crisp early morning atmosphere. I reach my hand into the toaster and pull it out. It's both warm and hot to the touch. Toasty on the outer layer but softer and warmer in the middle. It smells crisp, fresh and sweet. The butter I spread on it melts and seeps into the soft white middle. I bite into it and feel the crisp sweet crust. I taste the soft white butter soaked fluff and the sticky sweet jam that swirls through it. Suddenly my taste buds detect a stronger sweet bit wrapped in a soft round piece. As my teeth sink into it the fruity bit bursts with flavor onto the soft and toasted slab. It tastes as fresh as it smells. The smooth tender sensations in my mouth fill me with delight. The creamy saltiness of the butter matches the sticky sweet jam and fruity bits in a way no other food can. Bite after bite is simply delight in the simplicity of the little snack. Then the perfect little snack is soon over and I am left licking the scrumptious crumbs from my piece of raisin bread.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Writer's Creed
This was an assignment in our Creative Writing class--my personal writer's creed, to serve as an antidote for writer's block or to parry the blows of the seven evil writer's demons :) So without further ado, here's my reason for writing:
Why do I write? But perhaps that is the wrong question. Maybe I should be asking, what do I write for? I know I write because, as of lately, I am more often than not forced to write. I also write when I am full but also when I am empty. But compulsory or not, what do I find in writing?
Writing is a burst of fresh air for my soul.It is where words come together as the world falls away. A whole world exists in ink and paper that is between fiction and reality. Truth and illusion. Fact and opinion. Here I find a world between worlds. Just as CS Lewis finds a "wood between the worlds" in The Magician's Nephew, here I find the point between peace and a new adventure. A place where I can shout what I whisper and whisper what I shout. Where I can be who I want to be and shed all my flaws even as I begin to find them. With only a pen and paper I have this power over this world. And though the road be hard, I shall not relinquish the power of words, where they are strongest in my pen and paper.
-Dale Amigo (2008)
Why do I write? But perhaps that is the wrong question. Maybe I should be asking, what do I write for? I know I write because, as of lately, I am more often than not forced to write. I also write when I am full but also when I am empty. But compulsory or not, what do I find in writing?
Writing is a burst of fresh air for my soul.It is where words come together as the world falls away. A whole world exists in ink and paper that is between fiction and reality. Truth and illusion. Fact and opinion. Here I find a world between worlds. Just as CS Lewis finds a "wood between the worlds" in The Magician's Nephew, here I find the point between peace and a new adventure. A place where I can shout what I whisper and whisper what I shout. Where I can be who I want to be and shed all my flaws even as I begin to find them. With only a pen and paper I have this power over this world. And though the road be hard, I shall not relinquish the power of words, where they are strongest in my pen and paper.
-Dale Amigo (2008)
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