Hot air

I must admit, never have I been so terrified of going into a class as I am now with my Ph.D. course. Yesterday my professor asked each one of us our problematique for our dissertation and it felt like all the joy was sucked out of me because truth is, I don't have any problem, so to speak, to work on. While I do genuinely enjoy discussing the many critics and writers we read, I forgot that the professor operates on the assumption that everyone of us there is working on a dissertation. I do remember telling her that even as a graduate student I can handle the pressure of a Ph.D. class, and that I can work on that level without any special treatment. But that was when I foolishly blinded myself with the thought that Ph.D. classes will simply be about further (not necessarily deeper) discussions of different writers and critics and their works, which as it happens it also is. But the prospect excited me too much that I forgot postgraduate students are also supposed to be working on their dissertation.

Now I am in the same boat as the doctoral students are in. The difference is, they have a master's degree under their belt while I don't. But when I come to think of it, what really brought me to enroll in Comparative Lit are all the literary theories and the critics. I don't actually read much "literature" but rather more of the reactions to it. Talk about ambition. And taking the easy way in.

Now I find out that what I have to do really, if I plan to be literary scholar, is to find a writer or a bunch of similar ones, and devote my life to him or them. I'm thinking of becoming the preeminent Filipino Barthes or Habermas scholar, just to dodge accusations that I am merely mimicking Steve Carell's character in Little Miss Sunshine (who was a Proustian scholar) for lack of any real interest on any one writer. Barthes and Habermas because, well, they're quite celebrity intellectuals, and more people - I think - will know who I am working on compared to, say, Baudrillard and Sontag.

And if my analytical abilities can't cope up with my ambition, maybe I can just have T.F. Sering.

The problem with words

I wish I have it easy the way some people do when they sit in front of their PCs, or hold their pens over some paper. To them it comes naturally; thoughts flow easily into words effortlessly the way ice melts to water when heated (bad metaphor). And it's not simple communication, because these people can make crap smell like your mother's own version of adobo when they write about it. God they can even make it taste like one.

I wish I was like them.

Jim on Conan

We all know Conan O'Brien is the best late late night talk show host ever. What I just learned though, is that John Krasinski (Jim Halpert of that hilariously fantastic show The Office) is Conan's funniest interview ever. I laughed like its Conan's If they mated segment. This guy will go a long way.

Read on. For those of us who've been there, but haven't done that.

Lessons

Taken beside KFC Katipunan. Beware chicken lovers.


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My first day of class was full. Against usual UP tradition where professors usually find themselves stuck in the airport, or bus station, from where they took their last chance at a summer vacation (huling hirit!), my profs for CL 122 and my PhD class were already in (though they were late) and before we knew it, were already spurting out words like "new criticism" and "atomization" after which, without any effort at all to clarify if the "new" is new at all or if literary critics have finally decided to become physicists, proceeded to talk about a really formal Russian guy named Viktor Schklovsky, now dead.

I am excited though. I hope everything goes smoothly this semester.
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What's the difference between literary criticism and scholarship? While I do know that both needs theory, in what ways do they exactly differ?
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Some food for thought: Cultural studies pala is a Marxist discipline. How was it then that a conservative, Jesuit-run institution with no Marxist history whatsoever is offering the only cultural studies program in this proletarian country? Add to that the fact that they kicked out Nick Tiongson and Bien Lumbera, who are in my opinion the two leading Marx-inspired-but-not-quite writers we have.

I wonder what their curriculum looks like and who teaches the thing. And I think I know now why their top writer is pursuing his grad studies at the State U.

Goodbye Iowa

So our office had our annual R&R last week. It was relaxing at most. I rarely find things funny, and when I do, it usually is not supposed to be so I guess I'm excused if won't say I had fun. People expect me not to anyway.

We were on the road to Eagle's Point as early as 7am, and on our midway stopover in Laguna, we realized we do not have a laptop with us. I asked my officemate to bring his but due to stupid miscommunication, no one had brought it. And its because of me. I felt guilty, but we decided to drop the whole case. So no movie marathon for us. Fine.

The accommodations were nice, the food aplenty. We were fed to death. We were brought to an isolated part of the island, where the "more beautiful" sea shore - according to the guides - was supposed to inspire awe to us. There was no awe, but I must admit, there was some inspiration. Everywhere I go nowadays I command myself to remember there is. But it was rocky and there was hardly sand; only bits and pieces of corals. I maybe be exaggerating, as I am known to do most of the time especially if I feel strongly about something, but upon returning to our rooms I had at least a dozen small cuts on my feet.

I took a nap and shower, we had overflowing dinner. The clouds were overflowing, too. We were supposed to have a karaoke session, then the power went out. It came back and went out again. I was first on the mic. I was supposed to have a karaoke session. I went to my room and finished Roth's The Breast and started half way through Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. Before I knew it the sun was already up.

Took some pictures of the place during sunrise. Watched some caged birds stare back at me. With hatred, I suppose. Had breakfast then showered then packed my bags.

We dropped by the People's Park in the Sky on our way back to Manila. Cool place, the view was breathtaking. Bought a shirt to serve as evidence I've been there but I forgot to leave my mark. Neither did Eagle's Point.
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This is a very long blog.

While I enlisted myself via internet to the two conditional classes I am required to take to be fully admitted to the MA program in Comparative Literature, I was only accepted in one. I accepted my fate, and was already choosing between taking another class in French or String Instruments (or Film Production or Art Studies) when my very supportive adviser (Dr. Schriever, an expert in American Lit) gave it a shot and tried her best to get me into the class I was required to take. But the professor was steadfast, and refused my adviser's request. Claimed the class is full.

The following day I met with Dr. Priscelina Patajo-Legasto, again to ask for advise; Dr. Schriever wasn't around, and I felt that I really need to take Lit subjects now. I am already on my second year and all I have on my record is a single, undergraduate Lit subject with a 1.5 mark. Talk about being a Lit major. At least, I have 12 units in European Language.

And now I might be making history. She, too appeared supportive and sympathetic to my plight and agreed with my assessment that I am way behind of the recommended program. Thanks to her, I am all of 22 years and very excited to attend what's left of my options, a LittD. class in Literary Theory and Criticism.
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I had my hair styled today by the groomsmen of Going Straight at SM North EDSA. And by the looks of it, I don't think I shouldn't have given them a tip.

Life Serial

I created a link to Paolo Manalo's livejournal account, without his permission, and even if we really don't know each other. He's a mentor to my brother Paolo, who's livejournal also appears on the links list to the right. The former has quite established himself as a writer - he wrote Jolography which won quite a number of awards in 2004 (I guess) - while Pao is getting there.

Manalo has an amusing account on writers and literary gatherings. The title is Assignment: W.H. Auden, and you may find it by clicking on his link at the right. I think what Manalo said there goes as well with academics and scholars in general. Funny.