<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d26651252\x26blogName\x3dThe+Girl+in+the+Dirty+Shirt\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thedirtyshirt.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thedirtyshirt.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-4805136975002384833', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script> <script type='text/javascript' src='http://track3.mybloglog.com/js/jsserv.php?mblID=2008010808021427'></script> <script type="text/javascript"> var bt_counter_type=1; var bt_project_id=5746; </script> <script type="text/javascript" src="http://tracker.icerocket.com/services/collector.js"></script>
You Can Tell It's Been A Long Day
Sunday, July 30, 2006

It’s been a year since the workshop. A lot has happened since then, most of which I’m ridiculously grateful for. I can’t bring myself to list all of the things I’ve gained, though. For one, there are too many, each one too complex to describe in some measly blog entry and on very little energy. For another, I’m still not sure what all of this really means to me, especially since I’m in a vulnerable state right now. Before the workshop, I was trapped in a very bad bubble—my big dream to be a kickass filmmaker fizzled out, I was so scared that I chose the wrong school, I was beginning to think that my writing was all for naught, etc. After the workshop, all of that changed for the better. For the first time in two years, I felt like I was going somewhere, and I was. I was brought very, very far, and I’m so glad that I was dug out of the shithole I was in. It’s incredible how different things are now. My will to write isn’t clouded over by any juvenile crises any longer. I’m so sure of what I want, and it’s something that goes way beyond the stupid things that used to consume me, like being on good terms with the ghosts from my high school (a school that fucked me up royally, in retrospect, but that’s for another entry).

Now that I know where I want to go, though, things have gotten scarier. I know what I want, and I know that I’m working very hard to get it. I’m dead certain of that. I’m doing the best that I can, and for the right reasons now. But again, things have gotten scarier. I am so certain of what I have to do, but at the same time, I am terrified. There are many things beyond my control, and the only thing I can do is to keep going, to keep on thinking that my passion is sustaining something concrete. I just hope that this is enough. I want to reach that good place. More than anything. I will leave it at that.

posted by marguerite @ 1:31 AM


Margie, You Will Regret Having Written This in T-minus Three...Two...
Thursday, July 27, 2006

One of my guilty pleasures is reality TV. In fact, the act of following a reality show’s entire season is very much like masturbation: you start off a bit slow, begin to like it, keep at it, get more and more excited, get reallyreallyreallyreally excited, get reallyreallyreallyreallyreally excited, are on the brink of going nuts, GO ABSOLUTELY APESHIT XSIVLSJRDMDJWAXJW!!!!!!!!11111, then lie flat on your back, heart pounding, feeling like a total moron. (See? This is why I don’t write erotica.)

Right now, I’m obsessed with Rockstar: Supernova, though I know full well that I’ll feel really stupid once it’s over. Especially since this is a show where they cut down some of the best rock songs in the universe to two minutes and let some nobodies (half of them really good, half of them unforgivably awful) perform them to the discernment of several has-beens. The thing is, even though I swore to myself that I wouldn’t watch this season, having felt immense post-masturbatory guilt after Rockstar: INXS, I still let myself get hooked. I have pretty shitty reasons for doing so, but they’re reasons nonetheless.

First, Supernova’s sound is much different from INXS’. Supernova’s harder, which means that they prefer the contestants to sing the grittier songs, the ones I love and those fuddy-duddies from INXS hate. Second, there’s no Filipino among the contestants. I get really annoyed when the whole country goes nuts. Third, this batch of contestants is far more interesting than last year’s. The guys look more drugged up and the girls seem more promiscuous, so yay. Fourth, Supernova’s members are much sleazier than INXS’, who were too old to begin with, so the thought of all the debauchery that will happen if they pick a female lead makes me smile.

My top picks are Storm Large (who looks like Shirley Manson + Debbie Harry and acts like it, woohoo), Lukas Rossi (who looks like a serial killer and acts like it, woohoo) and, of course, Dilana (who is deranged, woohoo). I had a crush on Phil Ritchie, but he was booted out. Zayra has that Bjork appeal, but it seems that her strangeness is rooted more in her being foreign than in her penchant for individuality, so she just comes out annoying. Josh, the Gavin deGraw guy, has to go.

Okay, I will stop now. The deadline for the titi proposal is tomorrow, plus I have a Histo quiz. But as a parting note, I actually don’t care who wins. It’s a karaoke show, only with much better music. You shouldn't care who wins at karaoke.

posted by marguerite @ 11:47 PM


There's An Atkins Joke There Somewhere
Tuesday, July 25, 2006

I’ve been working on all sorts of papers since Sunday: the last half of my titi proposal, film reflections (20 questions on 2 films in 2 pages; try it, it’s a riot), that stupid Theo conscience exercise a.k.a. the most excruciating, most hypocritical three pages I have ever written (so far), etc.

I was so burnt out, I thought I deserved to pretend I wasn’t busy anymore and ran off to watch Nacho Libre. It wasn’t as nutty as I thought it would be, and had the same plot formula as School of Rock which, while expected, was still pretty annoying. This might sound hypocritical of me, since the titi proposal I’ve been slaving over exposes me as a screenplay structure hard-ass, but Nacho was just too obvious for my taste. They could have tried harder to work alongside structure than be its bitch. There were some priceless moments, though, and the depiction of jologs Mexico was pretty good. And I liked the corn. You can’t be mad at corn.

On the way home, I passed by the ukay and Booksale, two places I hadn’t visited in a while. There was nothing at the ukay, but I got this short fiction anthology at Booksale. I found it after one of the clerks (or whatever you call the guy whose job it is to dump the books in bins) gave me his little plastic stool to sit on. I had been squatting on the floor, madly searching for any semblance of fiction amidst all the Atkins manuals (although fiction nga naman din ang Atkins, haha, look, look, I just made a joke, yes, laugh, laugh now, find me hilarious). I’m glad I was able to dig for nice things again.

I hope there’s school tomorrow. I need classes to distract me from schoolwork.

posted by marguerite @ 10:36 PM


Byebye, Brain
Thursday, July 20, 2006

Margie stares at the computer screen, going over bits of her thesis proposal with much lethargy. The phone rings. Margie picks it up.

Margie: Pubey Boy.

Pubey Boy makes a low-pitched hum.

Margie: Hello?
Pubey Boy: You know that scene in “Adaptation” where Meryl Streep and Chris Cooper are on the phone and they do that dial-tone thing?
Margie: Yes.
Pubey Boy: That scene is brilliant.
Margie: Yes. Okay. So you do the low tone while I do the high tone. Game?
Pubey Boy: Game.

Both do their respective tones. The result is shitty. They stop. They scream.

Pubey Boy: Oh gaaaaaaaaaad! Maaaaaarge!
Margie: Aaaaaah! We have no musicaliteeeeeeeeeeeee!


Pubey Boy: How will you write your methodology?
Margie: (mumbles incoherently)...or something like that.
Pubey Boy: Bye.
Margie: Bye.

Margie returns to the computer screen.

posted by marguerite @ 8:25 PM


Field Trip
Saturday, July 15, 2006

Went to the National Library with Pubey Boy today for thesis research.

We actually went on Thursday, but since the both of us have a sucky sense of direction, we ended up circling the whole of Manila, winding up as far as Binondo. I was a bit happy to see the architecture, though, to Pubey Boy’s chagrin. When we finally got to the library, it had just closed and that section of Manila had fallen into a power outage, and we ended up eating at a pitch-dark Wendy’s. Thanks to the brownout, it had a candle-lit kitchen that was very Chungking Express.

We still got a little lost today, but we did get there on time, at least. Battled with the three hags manning the Filipiniana/Thesis section. The Furies, we called them. The Sourpussies. Big glasses, frail bodies, skin the color and texture of kikiam, with acid dispositions typical of female government employees. The xerox boys were much nicer, making my countless visits to their machines happy, feeling-productive moments.

You’d think that the xerox boys would be the cranky ones, since they were holed up in the darkest, warmest part of the second floor, flipping pages, pressing buttons and stapling stapling stapling for several hours straight, while the FuriesPukiesSourpussies had their chairs and air-conditioning. All those hags did was whine: whinewhine request slip mo whinewhine mali call number mo whinewhine mali pa rin call number mo whinewhine hoy, bawal ka dyan whinewhine hindi pwede, bumalik ka sa online catalog bawal ang walang call number walang thesis na ganyan ang call number mali mali dyan ka lang sa shelf 66 bawal ka sa ibang shelf hindi puwede dyan wala nang thesis before 1999 hoy tawagin mo nga kaibigan mo hindi pa kayo nagfifill-out ng request slip mali ang pagfill-out mo ng request slip mali mali ulitin mo yan. The xerox boys just get laid more often, I guess. The light flashes and toner smell probably turn them on.

I did get a good chunk of research done. Thank you, Juan M. Borra, thank you. Thank you for your thesis on The use of literary approaches in teaching the analysis of the film narrative in liberal education, which you had written in July of 2004 and was in partial fulfillment of your MA degree in Liberal Education, thank you, thank you, thank you, whereevah yew ahhhhh. Oh, ahv ahhluways deypenduhd own da kaaahhhndness of sturaynguhhs.

The best part of the library, however, was the decor. Felt paper cut-outs, cartolina and all those other heart-wrenching tidbits from grade school arts and crafts—the perfect contrast for such a roomy, gloomy building. The best piece was on the first floor:


Oo nga naman, Margie. What says “bastion of the Filipino people’s knowledge” better than coño speak?

posted by marguerite @ 6:30 PM


I Feel Stupid
Thursday, July 13, 2006

Lorenzana, my thesis advisor, has been a no-show since the semester began. Escaler subbed for him the first three weeks, although it seems that “sub” in Goth-speak is “reply to one email and never ever ever reply or show up physically ever ever again.” Today was supposed to be my first official meeting with Lorenzana, but then the rains killed that chance. Emailed him, but he hasn’t been replying. Tried contacting my thesis classmates, but the ones I know already switched advisors since their partners were with the others profs. Called the ComDep today, but missed him by an hour (according to an exceptionally sour Carunungan).

All my friends have been making safe progress with their theses, since they’ve been undergoing regular consultations since June. I’ve never even seen Lorenzana face to face. I think I saw him in Katipunan, but I’m not really sure if it was him. I started with my thesis proposal, which, by the way, is due in two fucking weeks, but I’m running the risk of getting it scrapped since Lorenzana’s never given the go-signal. And it’s not like I didn’t try looking for the bastard. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s like my thesis class never existed.

posted by marguerite @ 4:33 PM


Sunday Morning at the House of Decadence
Sunday, July 09, 2006

And the silence knows
what your silence means
and the metaphors
(as mixed as you can make them)
are linked, like days, together.

- This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open, The Weakerthans

jk, te faye and sky

ViCe party last night.

Through the years, the details of past ViCe parties lose their significance. Their respective mornings after, however, have managed to retain their worth. The problem is, considering that last night was the most numb I had ever been at the House of Decadence, this particular morning after might not stick with me, and I don’t want that to happen. It doesn’t matter if last night felt so dispensable. Breakfast with old friends is still breakfast with old friends. At least, I hope it is.

posted by marguerite @ 9:55 PM


Is That A Rocket in Your Pocket?
Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Poker’s a good tranquilizer, especially when you get pocket rockets mid-game. Seeing those two aces was absolutely yummy. I guess when you’ve spent the past few weeks just trudging through schoolwork, trying to believe that you’re making some sort of progress, any sense of affirmation seems legitimate. Even if it’s from a deck of cards.

I semi-won both games last night. Hooray for trivial victories. At the rate I’m going, I’ll take what I can get.

Come to think of it, tranquilizer isn’t the right word. It’s not like I was careening down the halls since senior year began. Quite the opposite. Marie and I agreed that we hit the ground running (our idiom of the moment) this schoolyear, and while that may be true in terms of my workload, it isn’t in terms of how I actually go through each day. As I’ve mentioned, I trudge. Slog. Crawl. Usually in the direction of the nearest spog, which makes time even more viscous.

posted by marguerite @ 9:19 PM


the girl

Pasig City, PH.

Damned the man, saved the empire.




happy trigger

This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from the_urgency. Make your own badge here.



tunay na lalake
happy mondays
biskochong halimaw
q magazine

lookit: vistaprint

Make your own rubber stamps with images uploaded from your computer!



Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

Free Blog Counter


April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
May 2009