Tuesday, July 12, 2005
A caesura is worth six sentences.
1.) "Moving on always means leaving something behind."
2.) This blog is almost a year old; the blogger, backspaced, almost two.
3.) When you treat your writing like your child, you find out how bad a parent you can turn out to be.
4.) Those who should care don't.
5.) Finding the right way to say goodbye is like eating a dictionary and still feeling hungry afterwards.
6.) I won't be posting entries here anymore.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Word transplant somewhere in blog. Guess the donor.
My pedestrian preoccupation with politics has sputtered and fizzled out quite a long time ago - somewhere between getting my first white hair and falling for a man who loves popping candy, I guess. It has since faded into the annals of my extended adolescence, a chapter that is redolent of wayward idealism and bourgeois reasoning. A typical case of disillusionment? Perhaps. Or maybe stuff has happened and subliminally revealed to me that, poof!, I'm done raving and raging into the night. *shrug*
What I do know for sure is that I don't know whether to rejoice or mourn the fact that I now call idle talk what members of my circle consider interesting discourse. My current state, peaceful may it be, seems to stink of either ignorance, arrogance or -yeah- apathy (apathy remains a myth, in my opinion). Pretty dismal, considering that I can't settle for being stupid, being a snob or being the social equivalent of a stone statue, can I?
And yet, I have to ask myself:
Just exactly how much of Life As I See It depends on who is President or not, on which politicians lie or not, on whether my definition of democracy tallies with my neighbors' or not?
I'm sorry but my honest answer is not very much.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Megalomaniac and megachiropterian in his ways, Bruce Wayne/Batman as a cartoon character has never won my admiration before. And while I can't say Christopher Nolan's "elemental" figure has captured my fancy, it certainly has raised my opinion of the proverbial Dark Knight quite substantially.
A savvy no longer sickening is what Christian Bale brings into the role. Larger than life (but still no better than it), he fleshes out the black suit (yeah, minus the offending nipples) with a convoluted reality that this moviegoer can certainly appreciate. That he gets cuts and bruises and sleeps 'til 3pm is most refreshing. And while his toys are cut in the million-dollar mold, he's only just another boy wanting to bring justice to the world. Really.
As far as I'm concerned, Katie Holmes has been typecasted (eternally and forever) due to a fault entirely her own. She's far too delightfully pretty, too cuddly-cute, to play a serious, hard-hitting (albeit idealistic) district attorney. No one in their right minds will think, even for a millisecond, that she's Rachel Dawes. She will always - always - be Joey. Period.
She's good for one line of dialogue, though:
"It's not who you are underneath but what you do that defines you."
"Life's a bitch, " Catwoman (Michelle Pfeiffer) purrs menacingly. "Now so am I."
Here kitty, kitty...
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
So I saw Episode III with a friend last week (after everyone else has seen it and gone blechhh).
Fifteen minutes into the movie, my stomach started churning (I had tacos earlier). This general discomfort, along with the fact that they were making a gullible invertebrate out of a yummy Hayden Christensen onscreen, left me with a not-so-pleasant impression about the film...
I was no Star Wars fan. Except for a hazy memory of furry Ewoks, my exposure to the hit series ranked a little above nil. Asked about what I thought of The Revenge of the Sith, all I could come up with were some questions: Anakin crossed over to the Dark Side of the Force in the name of Love? Padme, in a world of light sabers and clone armies, died of heartbreak?
Duh-dduhh-d-duh.. *official sound track*
(Note to self: You've decided you want to meet Luke Skywalker, Leia and Han Solo. And the geriatric non-Ewan Obi Wan. So get a hold of video copies. Episodes IV, V & VI. May the--Ohh, you are soo not going to say that.)
Aquamarine is green; sapphire is blue.
When you say chartreuse, jade or viridian, you mean green. Right?
When you say cerulean, cornflower or cyan, you mean blue. Right?
When does keeping things exact
become making things complicated
(When you are a two-bit colorblind wedding coordinator who cannot, for the love of patience and worthless palettes, refrain from impressing neo-sadists a.k.a. couples-getting-married with a lot of artsy-fartsy quasi-knowledge. That's when.)