Friday, April 13, 2007
A moment
Then I wondered to myself, "Since when have I become such a music snob?"
Given my humble beginnings of having discovered rock music through a reality show (Rock Star: INXS, to be specific), I don't really have that right. But it's like, with every rare rock CD that I acquire, I feel more rock snobbish, in a Jack-Black-in-High-Fidelity kind of way. Case in point: I was talking to someone last week about how Incubus is so gasgas and emo music is fucking shit (I admitted to liking Panic! at the Disco though hahaha). He agreed, and laughed at my inexplicable fondness for Panic. Basically, if a lot of people start liking a band, turn-off na sakin yun, and stuff like that. I made the mistake of whining about how much I hate corporate rock to a guy who liked Nickelback and Creed, luckily he was cool about it. He doesn't like Nirvana, either, so we're even.
But it didn't really hit me until I stopped by Music One, planning to pick up a Daughtry album. 'Cause I love Chris Daughtry and everything. So I had the CD in my hand, and I'm walking around checking out the other albums, when I realize that they're playing Daughtry in the store. And the moment my brain processes the sound, the thought hits me like a brick:
"Oh, SHIT! Corporate rock!"
I drop the CD in the nearest shelf and practically run out the store. Sorry, Chris, I love you, and I enjoy the occasional Nickelback single, but I hate corporate rock in general. Hate it. With a passion. It's the elevator music of rock and roll. It's a rock enema. You might as well be Britney Spears. You made me run out of the record store, it's
that kind of music!
"I figured out of all the Idols, Daughtry would be the one I'd pay money to listen to his rock album. But this isn't "rock." This is some unholy crap the radio stations call "Hot Adult Contemporary" and some polyester leisure suit-wearing demon-spawn producer excreted and recorded as an album. I'm still upset. I mean, sure, I bought the other albums, but only as a joke. This is personal." - Professor ChanSo I went home and comforted myself with Bjork and Radiohead. Maybe in an age when I'm not as repulsed by corporate rock, I'll pick up the damn album. This is probably just a phase.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
CDs, chocolates, boy bands, and a mullet
- Who knew
online shopping could be so much fun? Thanks to
eBay and the
PhilMusic forums, I am now in possession of some rare CDs that you'll never find in the shitty, incompetent music stores littered around Metro Manila: "Pablo Honey," "The Bends" and "OK Computer" by
Radiohead, "Foo Fighters" and "One by One" by
Foo Fighters, "Clumsy" by
Our Lady Peace and "Musicology" by
Prince. Yay for summer soundtripping!
- Speaking of soundtripping, I was in full boyband-reminiscence mode this week!
98 Degrees YM-singalong with Micmac
and BBMak talk with Ellie!
- Saw TMNT with my brother at Gateway last week and loved it!
- I want to watch Wild Hogs. (And Happy Hearts, too, but don't tell anyone :P Rustom Padilla is faaaabulous!)
- I tried Taco Bell. I will never eat at Taco Bell again. (Well, maybe for the free refills.) I bit into one end of a burrito, only to realize na the other end was open pala! Me to bro: "Shit, it took a dump all over my tray!"
- The N70 Music Edition is simply amazing, and I recommend it to all you music lovers out there! It's convenient, easy-to-use, and damn sexy!
- Last week, I got bored, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut my own hair. I have crazy-ass bangs now! Long enough to half-cover my eyes.
- Mom saw my self-made 'do and called it a mullet (!!!)
- I. Have. A. !@%^$#ing. Mullet. 0____o
- Nothing is quite as crazy as the moment you realize you've given yourself a mullet.
- If it really is a mullet (!!!), it's a cute, punk-rock one! :D (Even though "cute mullet" sounds like an oxymoron.)
- I'm considering getting my hair trimmed down to a boy cut for the summer. Like Michelle Clunie. (She's dating Gale Harold? OMG lucky!!! Gale is insanely hot!)
- Mom's back from Belgium, and as usual, she's got tons of Belgian chocolates!
- I am about to overdose on Belgian chocolates and Radiohead, and I am loooving it 8-}
Monday, April 02, 2007
Murphy's Law just kicked my ass
Murphy's Law: "Anything that can go wrong, will."I made no objection when I was assigned to be the video editor for III - Potassium's Filipino movie. I found movie-making to be an amusing hobby, and I'd spent last year's lazy summer hours putting together yet another tribute to Constantine Maroulis. It was a job that wasn't really a job. Besides, while acting is always fun, I wasn't looking forward to playing somebody's mother yet again. I was so excited about editing the movie that I had a little gray filler chock-full of ideas, from what songs would play where (obviously, they were all alternative, post-grunge, or trip-hop tracks), to an elaborate opening sequence -- illustrated storyboards included! -- that, unfortunately, never panned out.
Of course, when taking the job, little did I know how much of a pain in the ass it would be. I sat down in front of the computer, ready to begin work, when this appears:
"Windows Movie Maker cannot play this file. The required codec is missing."This marked the beginning of the most tiring hunt in my life. Finding a way to make the movie files compatible would prove to be harder than making the movie itself. I don't blame the person whose camera was used for the incompatible files, I just chalked it all up to unfortunate circumstance. Very, very unfortunate circumstance. Damned if the movie didn't suck all the life force out of me: I spent days commuting between Las Pinas and Quezon City, I bought a card reader, I saw PC technicians in various malls, I even had the laptop reformatted, just for those files. One day before the deadline, we finally got them to work. Of course, the joy of finally solving the Mystery of the Missing Codec was washed away by the feeling of "Oh FUCK, I'm dead!"
Thankfully, though, our wonderfully lenient Filipino teacher extended the deadline. That would prove to be no help, however, when a classmate's mom called, pressuring me to finish it ASAP. My dad wanted to call her back and tell her off about how much I'd dedicated to this goddamned movie, but I told him not to. Again, I don't blame anyone (promise! :D), but the worst part of being editor is that everyone's clearance form becomes your responsibility, and every technical screw-up is automatically your fault.
"Don't worry," I assured inquiring classmates through text that dreadful Wednesday, "I'll have it done and submitted by tomorrow morning." I was certain that I could finish this 20-minute movie in a good five hours or so, no problemo. I set my laptop in front of me on the couch and started working around 6:30 p.m., with the TV tuned in to American Idol (which, might I add, is so boring that it isn't even worth my annual evaluation, so let me just say that everyone bores me except for Jordin and Sanjaya -- and I really only like Sanjaya because he's cute and sweet).
I expected to finish working by midnight, but the clock struck twelve and I wasn't even halfway done. I kept working, long enough to watch the sun rise. Yes, folks, it was 6:30 a.m., I'd worked for 12 hours straight, not a wink of sleep, and guess what? I STILL WASN'T FUCKING DONE! By 7 a.m., I passed out in front of the laptop, and woke up 30 minutes later, in near-tears at how totally screwed I was. I told Dad I couldn't ride with him to school because I had a long way to go. Yet another tack in my self-imposed coffin: not riding to school meant a tiring 2-hour trip on public utility vehicles. Yeee-hah. And as the cherry topping on this big pile of horse shit, I wasn't cleared yet (this was the last day of clearance), and there happened to be one major bitch of a substitute teacher who was dead-set on making things hell for me. Thursday was certainly shaping up to be the worst day of my life.
The clock read 10 a.m., and still, no movie. See, subtitling was the real killer here. I might have been able to finish it in 5 hours like I thought I would, if only I didn't subtitle all the damn scenes. I decided to take my laptop to school and work on the film while trying to finish having my clearance form signed. I had a snowball's chance in hell of making it all work out on only 30 minutes' worth of sleep. This Sword-of-Damocles feeling of "I am so fucked" had me riding to school literally feeling like my heart had a brick lodged in it.
Halfway there, meaning an hour away from home, I realized that I had forgotten to bring my clearance form with me. And at school, there was the added bonus of discovering that I also left my laptop charger behind!
Murphy's Law was in full force.
I felt like I had just been buttfucked by life. Thoughts of taking a month-long emo sabbatical in which I'd hole up in my room and drown myself in black eyeliner and Panic! At the Disco filled my weary head. I was tired, cranky, sleepy, stressed out. Had my hair turned gray that day, I wouldn't have been surprised.
Things turned out for the better, though. I was once again saved by Ma'am Rodriguez's leniency. She agreed to sign clearances if I made a note saying I'd pass the movie by 3 p.m. the next day. I was also informed by the good people at the Registrar's office that I could still work on my clearance form on Friday, so I spent my last minutes at school with Beila, Deo, and Ellie, watching bits of the unfinished film. (Ang galing pala umarte ni Jon! :o) I went home early, stopping by Glorietta to peruse the stores. I found "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris on sale at National Bookstore, so -- awesome! It's a nice little ice pack after the beatdown I took.
And that, kiddies, is how my day went from "OMG I'm fucked" to "Hey, that wasn't so bad." I actually went home pretty happy. (I will, however, have gone home the following day in tears. Just goes to show that you never know what's gonna happen next.) It was back to work once I stepped through the front door, but this time, I felt good about it.
Later that night, I found out:
"Shit, may kulang na scene!"
Hee.
