Entries for March, 2007
I went to meet two really old friends. We decided to go on some coffee. They'd been my classmates from kindergarten to the very last day of high school. We'd been part of the school publications and yearbook team together. We'd been sent to the same school competitions. That kind of old friends. Childhood friends. I guess these days, childhood friends are anyone before college. It's because college is where you're no longer totally kids.
So anyway, we'd never really had anything in common now. During college. One had taken up Management Economics, the other Food Technology, and I, Architecture. We'd found a new set of friends, probably new religions, a new set of principles. In four years of not having to spend some serious time together during such years as college, people definitely don't stay the same.
People may find this an effort, you know, when you've all changed drastically, and try to catch up over coffee. It's not easy. But, there we were, talking about work, kids, sex, boyfriends, and the future. It's times like these you realize you've really grown. However, catching up is never catching up without reminiscing.
We decided to have a good old "slumber party" at my place. Nothing like ten years to talk about to keep you up til sun-up. I brought out my old "letter box", and that entertained us for hours. Remembering who liked who, and the rest of the works.
Sigh.
When I woke up, it was all over. Time to go, they said. And the awkwardness settled in again. That kills me.
Baboysai reads 20th Century Boys
That's Kenji. He brings together the group of unlikely heroes to save the human race.
Everything that's been happening since the year 1997 sounds like child's play. Some virus breaks out, important political and religious figures mysteriously murdered. When Kenji accidentally discovers a mysterious symbol that connects all these events together, he's in for it. Deep.
He finds the symbol to be very familiar. And when he realizes that the symbol was the symbol of their circle of friends back in 5th grade in the late 60's, he digs even deeper. He remembers that everything that's been happening is everything they've planned out when they were kids. Kenji looks for every one of his old friends who knew the symbol to stop the next big thing, if he remembers correctly: a giant robot to wipe out the human race.
The question is: who among them is the psychotic murderer who is making their childhood games into reality?
Every chapter of this graphic serial novel is a clincher. I glue my eyes on the monitor, read intently, and my mind doesn't stop thinking: "what's next, what's next?" Aside from the amazing story, the major reasons for loving 20th Century Boys are:
1. The art. It's superb. They don't have big glossy "orbs" for eyes, they don't have the weird spikey hair. Naoki Urasawa strived for the art to be as real as possible. The architecture in his created world is just stunning to the tiniest detail.
2. The storytelling. It's how the plot is revealed that grabs me. The story can be original, but when it's told in a crappy way, the story is still crappy. But the plot is just amazing. The scenes jump from present to the past, to the future. Sometimes a few years back, sometimes so far into the future, so that everything you read always a surprise.
3. The characters. A story is not a story without a set of well thought-out characters. Now, for a story that involves 48 years of events, having a large set of characters is inevitable. But everyone is well made, that not one of them is boring: a teenager leader of two mafias, the lazy student who finds the truth while doing her term paper, the kid loser who grows to be a captain of a rebellion faction, the store owner who sings rock with his broom upstairs, the priest with the tatoos.
I'm telling you: R-E-A-D I-T.
Title: 20th Century Boys
Author/Artist: Naoki Urasawa
Genre: Manga
Vintage: January 2000
Powerpoint maker. 
I tenchu. Bow.
uwaaaa! No. I'm tired of it. Hayz.
Techie? me? 
You've gotta be kidding. Wait till you hear my boyfriend and Sudarshan Khadka, Jr. talk. I become the third wheel.
"Kasi pare, yung alpha channel..."
"Masmaganda ang V-ray, pare."
"Gamitin mo black imbis na white para maging invisible."
"Nagiging putik pag RGB e. Dapat CMYK"
"Minsan pinepaint ko nalang na may shadows e, bago i-map."
Yeah. Whatever.
So I have to write a story about three friends- the characters are predetermined. They're totally very different, and stringing them together to make something under 700 words- hmm.
Yeah. Whatever.
Baboysai listens to Shoulda Woulda Coulda (for procrastinators)
Baboysai reads Georgette Heyer stuff again!
I walked back a little further, picked a nice, soft spot, paused, and lay down. I was in the middle of nowhere. At the foot of the mountains. They were looming at me. The stars had fallen, and, set the trees ablaze. I can hear the jungle. No one could see me. I was ten feet below ground. Two spots emerged on my horizon. White and orange. They grew faster than I expected. The spots were no longer spots. They took shape. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody kno-
“What are you doing? I thought we were heading back to the dorm.” The one in white said, squinting behind his glasses.
“You don’t have to be mean, JJ. Of course, what do people do here but mope and feel the world crushing them? He’s here emoting.”
JJ shrugged, and sat beside me.
“Yeah? You walked back without telling us. What are you emoting around here for? I think we only got to talk about Rooroo’s problem the last thirty minutes.”
The one in orange sat at my other side.
“Okay, Alvin. Let’s talk about you now.”
Don’t you have stuff to do? I’m in the middle of nowhere, and nobody’s supposed to know I’m here.
“Mr. Dimaano desperately pushes the button on the control. Mr. Santiago comes up, panicking- ‘what’s the status?’ Mr. Dimaano can’t give him an answer! He pushes and pushes, but the astronaut doesn’t seem to hear from the control. Mr. Dimaano shouts ‘EARTH TO VINCE, EARTH TO VINCE!”
Rooroo laughed. Even I laughed. Geek.
“See? I like it when you smile, Vince. That wasn’t too good a performance, JJ, but you made him smile.”
I’m in the middle of nowhere, I’m at the foot of the mountains, the stars had fallen-
“No you’re not! You’re in the middle of this field (that they call the sunken garden, and I don’t get at all why they call it that way)!”
“Because, it sounds better that way. Sunken garden versus sunken field?”
Rooroo raised his hand, “Teacher, me! I think the politically correct one is better.”
Sunken field? Rooroo?
He paused for a while and took it back a second after. “Yeah, sunken garden sounds more dramatic.”
I smiled at this. I was right.
Rooroo clapped his hands in delight. “He smiled again, he smiled again!”
“Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong, Vince? I mean, we were fifteen steps to the dorm when we found out you didn’t follow us. We find you here in this “middle of nowhere” of yours. We’re looking like clowns, we’re tired, and you don’t even give us a talent fee for cheering you up.”
I sat up, sighed, and looked at Rooroo.
“Oh, the face! Don’t look at me with that face! It slaps me in the face with the Shrek Puss-in-boots eyes that say ‘poor me, I’m cute, but poor me’.”
I laid down back again. You guessed that right.
“Don’t put stuff in his mouth, Rooroo. He was supposed to tell us, and you blew it off.”
“I’ll blow something else off if he doesn’t tell us what’s wrong in five seconds!” Rooroo cried in despair as he lay down beside me.
JJ did the same thing.
“You just like it here, don’t you? In this ‘middle of nowhere. Are we ever going back to the dorm?”
“Okay, Vince. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody knows we’re here.”
Even just for an hour, I’d like to hide from Her. Her very presence would fill me up to the brim and She’d suffocate me. And I’d be Her slave. Then my heart would break again and again, because She doesn’t even know my name, my face, my room number, my existence. Even then, I’d still be Her slave. The ecstasy would drain everything out of me, and I was just –tired- of it all. She’d be there, like it or not. But I can get away if I’m here.
For a whole seven minutes they just lay there. Quiet. In the middle of nowhere, at the foot of the mountains, where the stars had fallen.
“Vince, who are we hiding from?”
Love.
Rooroo sighed. As if to resign. As if to give up. JJ?
JJ did the same thing.
There is is, my final work for Creative Writing. That was the best I could do under pressure (>_< I crammed again). Please, I'd be very grateful to hear feedback. For anything that might sound vague, or stupid, or grammatical errors- anything! Please help Baboysai... -_-
Baboysai listens to er... Michael Buble.
Baboysai reads Georgette Heyer
Baboysai watches Naruto's nightmare- nightmare talaga! har har.
First band practice in a reaaaally long while.
Tiktak: The vibration's killing me.
Baboysai: I'll have carpal tunnel syndrome!
Rac: Sorry, sorry!
Dred: I have a solo?
Shayne: I'll have to wear bloomers...
This will be interesting... *wink*
(Edit: Thanks to 1217713 for pointing out the misspelled 'rythm', I can't believe I just did that!)
Tak: Because we're not a band, we're a team. (Tak, ang cheesy moh!)
Baboysai: (In British Accent) Good evening, everybody. We're Team Ploit.
? shouts from the audience: Are you British?
Baboysai: We're not British. We just like the sound of it.
Nothing like Banana split and Saba con Hielo to knock my voice up.
Except maybe that I'm one step closer to murdering my groupmate. Nah, it's cool, it's cool.
Baboysai listens to Like a Virgin! Hey!
Of all things to "warn" me about, I strongly recommend that nobody should want to do that about my studies.
Warning: Baboysai will rant.
I A-M B-A-B-O-Y-S-A-I. I do N-O-T care!
And that I'm actually affected plainly shows that I do care. So the fact that I care, nobody needs to tell me about it. OKAY?
Tsk tsk. One thing a professor cannot afford to lose is respect.
I acknowledge that you had cared enough to threaten me. But your premise is so g*damned wrong. You do NOT want to talk about my attitude in class, you do NOT want to talk about my enthusiasm, you do NOT want to talk about my performance, because I do NOT want to talk about YOURS.
It is one thing to complain about requirements I supposedly failed to do. It is totally different to complain about my attitude towards class. Because that is apparently not my problem.
You will NOT talk about my performance if you do NOT know what I did for the class, idiot.
wooshie wooshie.
It is unfortunate that I am a goddess. That a minor difference in behavior is multiplied 58% because I am a public figure. It is not unfortunate. You just have to deal with my indifference. I don't need to prove myself to you because my worth will unfold naturally, before you get to flunk me. And you shall see. Enthusiasm my *ss. You demand that when you have the right. Which you apparently don't have.
ENTHUSIASM MY @SS!
Kimura Takuya, I'll still love you. But will you be my no. 2?
Of all couples I've encountered in stories, this couple is by far the cutest: 
Let me tell you their story.
Shinichi Chiaki is a very talented pianist who was trained by the famous conductor, Sebastino Viera. Chiaki's mother decides to bring him back to Japan. When the plane they're on is about to land, it crashes. Because of this incident, Chiaki is traumatized and he is unable to bring himself to ride a plane again, not even a boat, for fear of drowning. This, however, is unknown to everyone in the music university he is attending.
It is unfortunate that Chiaki's talent doesn't get the attention it deserves because he doesn't join in competitions nor perform in public. His professor gives up on him and puts him under a new professor. This new professor insists on Chiaki performing a duet with a very strange pupil of his, Noda Megumi.
Noda Megumi, who calls herself Nodame, other than being strange, also plays the piano oddly. She plays pieces with a lot of mistakes, but somehow very beautifully executes them. Sometimes when excited, she tends to play very fast, even with very complicated arrangements. Chiaki later realizes that she in fact, often improvises and composes in the middle of the pieces she plays.
When Chiaki hears the same style of playing in his apartment, he discovers Nodame living next door. He finds out Nodame's strangeness even more strange because her house is a total wreck. Unable to control the urge, he cleans her place and cooks for her. Nodame becomes more and more dependent. When Nodame is told it is impossible for them to be together, she sinks into depression.
Review:
What makes the two of them very cute is that Chiaki denies and denies that there is anything going on between them, but he cannot help watching over Nodame. Nodame is exactly like a three-year old who must be attended to at all times.
The characterization is wonderfully done. Chiaki is a perfectionist who seems to excel in almost anything from playing music instruments to cooking. Nodame is a happy go-lucky, and almost clearly has a psychological condition of sorts, nearing autism perhaps. (Ueno Juri did a great job acting out Nodame) Not to mention the other characters in the least.
The overall mood of the production is cartoon comedy. Hearts floating, slapstick bonking of objects onto one's head, nosebleeds, the works. Everything you can find in a cartoon they put it here. Except maybe the "cry me a river" style, but it's okay to exclude that one. This technique, for me, worked well with the overall production. Because nothing really gets too serious. One moment they start crying, but something funny's bound to happen. ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.
It's very light. Not cheesy, not mushy. Although in the end, I might have been more satisfied to see a little more Chiaki-Nodame cuteness, it was really the end. My sister knew someone who wouldn't watch the ending because she didn't want it to end, and an officemate who bought a piano after watching the series. 
The proof that I enjoyed this one is the mere fact it's 3 AM and I'm still typing away to ease down this hype from watching it.
I wonder, what would Nodame Cantabile do to you? 
Title: Nodame Cantabile
Original Story: Tomoko Ninomiya (manga)
Genre: Japanese Live Adaptation
Starring: Hiroshi Tamaki as Chiaki, Ueno Juri as Nodame
Original air time: Oct-Dec 2006
Rating: 
/10
Kimura Takuya, I'll still love you. But will you be my no. 2?
Because now, Hiroshi Tamaki is my no. 1. 
Baboysai listens to Beethoven's symphony no. 7
Baboysai watches nothing
Ack. I'm feeling sick. In the head, in the tummy, everywhere.
Causes:
1. Exams
2. Homeworks
3. Groupworks
4. Environment (the house is a g*ddamned mess!)
5. Body weight (I am 4 pounds overweight!! What is that?)
6. In heavy need of inspiration. I-NEED-TO-DO-MY-STORIES!
I am actually squeezing cleaning up, packing up, writing two stories, site visit, the padre pio model and boards, two exams, and a whole-day esquisse in 70 hours. 
Coffee, I need coffee... I don't drink coffee.
----Rant Terminated----
Definition of terms:
Exams- the cruel way of testing if a student has learned anything about a subject, or whether he/she pays attention in the class. Asking questions is not the cruel thing. It's the amount of questions, how they are asked, and the amount of stuff the student must remember at one particular time, and the fact that grades depend heavily on exams (and how job opportunities can depend highly on grades, and how life can depend highly on job opportunities) is what makes exams very -undesirable-.
Homeworks- the method of teaching that forces a student to learn about certain topics of the subject. In the case of architecture students, homework may come in the form of manual labor like drafting, and making cute little, but painstakingly, bloodily achieved, models. Model-making may cause cuts, bad backs, eye problems, failure to observe personal hygiene, etc.
Groupworks- Homeworks that are too much for one person to handle is considered a groupwork. No, wait. Make that SOME homeworks (since there are homeworks that are too much for one person to handle, but still assigned individually. The bastards).
Environment- the surrounding space of a person is called environment. There are several factors to consider in judging environment: economy or financial status, personal beliefs, family upbringing, time management, and so on. Failure to keep the environment clean causes itching, pimples, distractions, and the feeling of being... dirty.
Body weight- is the term for how hard gravity pulls a person toward it. It may also be a manifestation of the person's personal attraction towards food, and personal unattraction for exercise.
Inspiration- Or, the creative spurt. Creativity, when not honed, comes in spurts. Children who are properly trained for this mental function have creativity come in barrels, not spurts. Teenage and post-teenage persons who have allowed their brain to focus on other things (such as exams, homeworks, groupworks, environment, and body weight) tend to force the brain, thus creativity comes in spurts. A tablespoon may be enough to fulfill certain school requirements to give the student a desirable grade of 3.0.
Now, analyzing this whole thing, it took me 30 minutes to finish this entry. That makes it 69 hours and 30 minutes to finish everything. Oh, there's one more task- celebrating my birthday. Sigh. How sad.
Jen, I’m home. Jen? Geez! Don’t scare me like that! Turn the lights on and stop playing with that flashlight. I thought you’d stay in school until I picked you up. I’m sorry I was late.
What? You went to the hospital already? On your own? That’s great, Jen! Did you find mom’s room? Did you bring her the jello? She didn’t eat it? She likes our jello, it’s all she eats. The nurse said she didn’t eat the one we brought yesterday too? Then we should make something better Jen. How ‘bout you, have you eaten? I bought you a Happy Meal. Yeah, we’ll bring mom something better next time.
No, I was, I was out. I said it wasn’t a date. It’s no big deal, Jen. I said was out, okay?
This? I uh, I bought it. It’s getting cold these days, I just thought of buying one. No big deal. I’ll buy you one next time, okay? What color would you like? Hey, don’t walk out on me. Hey! You don’t even know what changing the topic means. Where’d you hear that from?
No, wait, Jen. Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. It’s about the phone calls. Yeah. I’ve been getting much of them lately. Don’t freak out, okay? Promise not to freak out. I saw him today. No, I met with him. Not by accident. He’s been calling me all this time. Don’t hate me for not telling you, okay? For not bringing you to see him.
But he said he missed you. Yeah, he missed me too, he said. What, you wanna see him? He’s gone now, he went somewhere. I, I don’t know, Jen, okay? He just wanted to buy me dinner.
He said he missed you, didn’t he? We didn’t talk much. It was just dinner. I’m sure you had a lotta questions, Jen. Me too. But it was just some dinner.
You can’t meet him. I said, I said he went somewhere else! I mean, do you even remember him? No, not from the pictures! Do you actually remember his face? You can’t just wanna meet somebody you don’t remember!
Wait, I’m sorry, don’t cry. I shouldn’t be shouting. I’m sorry. It’s just, no, I’m not being unfair, Jen. He’s being unfair. He bought me this scarf. Packed in a pretty pink paper bag, tied up with gold strings. He offered me the gift, like I’m still thirteen. Like I’d forget everything over dinner and a cute package.
I lied. We talked, no, he talked for a long time. Asking questions I didn’t like answering. He asked if I still got his rosary. I didn’t answer but he saw it around my neck. I’d forgotten how his laugh sounded.
He asked about school. As if he cared. He didn’t even know I quit, Jen. I quit two years ago! Yeah, so I could walk you to school and pick you up. So we can make jello together.
He asked about you. I told him you’re very pretty. You’re a big girl now. Yeah, because you can make jello.
Hey. You don’t remember him, right? You don’t wanna see him, right? Because he didn’t want to see you, Jen. He knows you won’t recognize him. That scares him.
He asked about mom too. I told him about her being in the hospital. But I didn’t tell him why. Why she wouldn’t eat, or why she just— gave up, you know? I couldn’t tell him, Jen. That would give him too much credit.
He looked so— fulfilled. Um, it means happy. Successful. That look on his face wanted me to tear up this rosary. I don’t understand it, Jen. I always told myself I didn’t care, but I don’t get what I’m feeling right now. I swear I wanna tear up this rosary, but you know, I’d end up picking up the beads. You get me? You understand what I’m saying?
I tried to leave. I couldn’t stand him. But when I got outside it was so cold like hell froze over, so I came back in. When I looked, the package was still there. But he was gone.
This is the second version of the same story, after much deliberation, thought, and effort to revise it. The revisions, aside from my own judgement, were also based on the comments that a few readers my classmates have given in the workshop.
I walk back a little farther, pick a nice, soft spot, and lie down. I am now in the middle of nowhere. At the foot of the mountains. The stars had fallen, and, set the trees ablaze. I can hear the jungle. No one can see me. I am ten feet below ground. Two spots appear on my horizon. White and orange. They grow faster until the spots are no longer spots. They take shape. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody kno—
“What are you doing? I thought we were heading back to the dorm.” The one in white said, squinting behind his glasses.
“You don’t have to be mean, JJ. Of course, what do people do here but mope and feel the world crushing them? He’s here emoting.”
JJ shrugs, and sits beside me.
“Yeah? He walked back without telling us.”
The one in orange sits at my other side and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Okay, Alvin. Let’s talk about it (again). But here?”
I’m in the middle of nowhere, and nobody’s supposed to know I’m here.
“Mr. Dimaano desperately pushes the button on the control. Mr. Santiago comes up, panicking- ‘what’s the status?’ Mr. Dimaano can’t give him an answer! He pushes and pushes, but the astronaut doesn’t seem to hear from the control. Mr. Dimaano shouts ‘EARTH TO ALVIN, EARTH TO ALVIN!”
Rooroo laughs. Even I laugh a little. Geek.
“See? I like it when you smile, Vince. That wasn’t too good a performance, JJ, but at least you made his facial muscles twitch.”
I’m in the middle of nowhere, I’m at the foot of the mountains, the stars—
“You’re in the middle of this field that they call the sunken garden! (And I don’t get at all why they call it that way)”
“Because, it sounds better that way, Roo. Sunken garden versus sunken field?”
Rooroo raises his hand, “Teacher! I think the politically correct one is better.”
Sunken field? Rooroo?
He pauses for a while and takes it back after a second, “Wait, sunken garden sounds more dramatic.”
I’m right.
Rooroo claps his hands in delight. “He smiled again, he smiled again!”
“Hey, we’re fifteen steps to the dorm when we find out you didn’t follow us. We find you here in this “middle of nowhere” of yours. You’re thinking about it again, and making a big deal out of it! Rooroo and I are looking like clowns, we’re tired, and you don’t even give us a talent fee for cheering you up.”
I sit up and look at them both.
“Oh JJ, look at him! The picture just slaps me in the face with the Shrek Puss-in-boots eyes that say ‘poor me, I’m cute, but poor me’.”
Are you implying I’m soliciting pity?
“He’s soliciting pity.”
“Yep. But he was supposed to start talking about it, and you blew it off.”
“I’ll blow something else off if he doesn’t tell us what he wants in five seconds!” Rooroo cries in despair as he lies down.
Five seconds pass. Hah. You wish.
“Vince, if it’s advice you need, I’ve said it a thousand times. All you need to do is tell her. Didn’t you say only two days ago you’d finally tell her or you’d burst?”
“Wow, burst. But he can’t tell her, Roo. She doesn’t even know an Alvin Cruz exists. Or that all she knows is hundreds of Alvin Cruzes exist.”
“Hmm, you’re right. Alvin Cruz, a name lost in mediocrity!”
“The type agents from The Matrix use. So, got any other ideas, Sir Santiago?”
“I say, let him wear loud Hawaiian polos! They catch everybody’s attention. (Except maybe in Hawaii or similar) How about he serenade in the moonlight? Or take her in his arms, offer her a rose between his teeth.”
“Roses have thorns. That would hurt. His lips might bleed.”
“Oh. Then she’d lick his blood! Like a vampire in heat!”
“Here’s what I think, Roo. Vince should just forget about it. Didn’t he say he was breaking his own heart? That he was tired of it? Like game over?”
“True, true. But mon ami, one cannot just forget l’amour. Especially when he’s here. On this, this fertility ground. Oh JJ, look at that couple.”
“Let’s get back.”
“Wait, you in the mood to violate the late night rule and drown his sorrows?”
“Yeah, if we drink it away, Alvin would forget about Lorelei—
“Then he’d morph into a bumbling idiot, and we’d all be happy.”
“We have to hear it from him first, Roo.”
They look at me with eyes that tell me to hurry up. A few seconds pass, and like seven-year olds, their attention shifts to the couple, kissing and groping like there’s no tomorrow. This is apparently entertaining for idiot types. For a whole seven minutes, JJ and Rooroo watch, making occasional sub-human guffaws. Kids these days. A bum approaches the couple and the show’s over.
They stand up and look down on me.
“So, is it game over for you, Vince?”
Ten feet below ground. The pressure is sickening. The silence is deafening in this middle of nowhere, where the stars had fallen. This time no distractions can save me. These guys want that particular answer. I want that too. This has dragged on long enough.
“Do we buy the beer now?”
I think I’ll need the beer. Tomorrow.
This is the second version of this same story. This has been edited based on the comments of readers and classmates in the Creative Writing workshop. This is my final submission. Do or Die.
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