The long, overdue goings-on in the here-kitty-kitty place known as school.

This week has been rather good to me.

May I elaborate?

Well, the After Eden report I did for Comic-Book Writing Class went somewhat well, though I did wish I had been a bit more relaxed while I stepped up to it. Well, I did prepare for it, though I do wish I had prepared a bit more. To think I had the audacity to volunteer to be first! (Ay! Lesson: never let hero-worship googlyness get the better of you.) Ah well, that's done.

The main event for Costumes Class this week was pattern-making. Yep, we're being trained for dress-making, I tell you. Well, on the bright side, at least I'll learn how to make corsets and bustles and lovely victorian garb (along with the repression to go with it). We harrumph. (But really, the corset's a good thought... )

Speech 125 (er, Traditional Oral Literature) was okay. It seems I can't get out of my initial impression for the class: Arnold Arre's The Mythology Class for the Speech and Theater Department, on a more academic level. Hmm. (Truth be told, TMC was one of the major factors why I chose the class. There may be no Tikbalangs or engkantos or adrenaline-rush adventure, but well, let's just say, if Sir Arnold made me appreciate {and fall in love with} my culture more through comics, I want to see if this class could do the same for me through performance, considering the connection. Aw, shucks. Associative mushiness can get to me.

Thesis Class? Thesis class... Well, it's not really so much as just the experience within the three hours, as it is the experience of the whole week. And for once, I can honestly say thesis work is going rather well. Plodding, yes, but still developing rather well.

Improvement: Sir Tony Mabesa smiled at me at the FC Parking Lot, behind his shades, with his baritone "Hi" to match. (Of course, the respectful head-bow and "Good afternoon po, Sir" followed out of me.) Yeah, I know, I may sound like I'm overtly gushing over one tiny token of common goodwill, but it's still important to me. Well, considering how I've been cowering under my skin, dreading of running into him again after the terrible phone call...

Ack, don't ask: as my thesis adviser instructed me, I gave Sir Tony a phone call, in no place less than the Professor Emeritus' residence, and was foolish enough to ask him a very unstudied, unprepared question. It was glaringly obvious what I had failed to do, and to think I thought reading a handful of reviews of his plays would be enough. Oh no. Apparently, I was given the telling of my life, acrid enough to dissolve me into a pile of jell-o as I put the receiver down. It. Was. Horrible. Taking my grandmother's advice (and trusting common sense), I wrote a letter of apology, sealed it, and slipped it into his pigeon hole the soonest I could. As I trotted a pace away from the Department, to my horror, Sir Tony swung through the heavy Department Door. My trot turned canter the quicker and I ducked behind the furthest corner. I couldn't let him see me, not with the letter! What would he say?

This Wednesday, I learned what he had to say. And after a whole month of shivering in my shoes, I saw there was absolutely no reason for me to do so. And it felt good. :)

Aside from Sir Tony, there was Sir Alex Cortez. It seems I'll have the honor of working with him on a mutual benefit, me for my thesis, and he for his dissertation.

My. His dissertation, at that.

You see, as you probably have read in some of my previous entries, I've taken to collecting Dulaang UP reviews from the late '70s onwards for my thesis. As I was advised by Dr. Edna May Landicho, my thesis adviser, I was to ask Sir Alex's permission to swim through his own collection, considering he had been keeping this up since Dulaang UP's tender years. and so, by a chance meeting and Ma'am Edna's bridge-building, Sir Alex and I got to talk. It seems he's been having trouble looking for some 1975-1989 reviews (and their respective bibliographies), which I happened to have a good bulk of both in my carry-case tab. On the other hand, he may have reviews I may have overlooked, considering Sir Alex has been at this from the very beginning. Thus, with preliminary instructions from Kuya Sir Anril (yep, the Sir is part of his name), his research assistant, I take up the sniffing job and become research assistant, junior. (or is that junior research assistant?)

Wow.


As for Playwriting...

Dear friends, with a half-heavy heart. I abdicate my ambition.

A confession, it is. You see, much as I was all-revved up to start writing my "G33k" play, things got rather complicated. I over-detailed my characters (say, four-page description for just one character) so much so ended up confusing myself, trying to look at them from every possible angle imaginable. My big writing idea turned the way milk turns, and I realized I hadn't known enough about geekiness to really pull the play off. I had to shelf the idea for a better time.

Then came the "Super Siyudad" idea, inspired from my general idea of Astro City. A Juan dela Cruz on a bus-ride with a commuting Kapitan Katarungan (he commutes because he believes in total justice: if you commute, he commutes) and a hot-aired (unnanmed, at the momment) supervillain who willingly gives up his seat for old ladies "because I was raised with good manners". We find out as the play moves forward, The two superbeings, much like most of the common superbeings of the time, are not as super as they seem: they're petty, immature, plucky, and celebritized so much, it's gone to their heads. Juan dela Cruz turns out to be the real superhero (complete with a superman shirt under the polo), as he turns out to be the only character that genuinely cares for the city.

Interesting premise, isn't it?

unfortunately, as all high-tossed ambitions are in this year of the Rooster, Super Siyudad didn't exactly fly. Again, I found that I didn't know my characters enough, and I was doing them and myself a great disservice selling them off as "real good stuff" after hasty genenralizations and simply not getting to know them well. In a nutshell, they weren't characters I could relate to myself. It makes for very sloppy writing, trust me. Lesson learned.

So, this time, I've finally decided on doing a love story. Yep. Mushy little girl me, trying to un-mush and simplify. The title had originally been "Unfinished Business", but after decidieng it sounded too ghost-ly, I took to "Last Letter Before Morning". Oh my: title na title na lang, love story na!

The gyst: a man, fresh out of college, hailing from a well-to-do family, sits down to write a letter to his loved one. each time he tries to start, an interruption happens, both on the inside -- medication, checking dates, etc. --- and outside --- visits from his best friend, lunch carried in by mom, the girlfriend dropping by to cuddle. He smiles and entertains them one by one, and as they leave, he begins to write the letter again, with increasing difficulty. He is dying of cancer, and he knows he will die the next morning. He chooses to keep it a secret from his family, because he doesn't want them to worry about him.

Well, it's not much... heck, it's not even close to Vonnegut's Long Walk to Forever, but I certainly hope it'll do. (You're right, Dean. I guess it's the springboard option for me for now. Thakns for the advice. ^_^) We're given around two free meetings (thus, that means a whole week to work on it) to finish writing the first draft for the whole play. Yep, i know, must not freak out, it's just the first draft. Must. breathe. Must breathe.

Ah, well... kaya yan. ;)