call for submissions to the new voices anthologies of poetry and fiction

Attention, new writers: The Department of English and Comparative Literature of the University of the Philippines in Diliman is calling for submissions to New Voices, a two-volume anthology of poetry and fiction by new Filipino authors writing in English. To be published by the UP Press and possibly in cooperation with the Commission on Higher Education, these volumes will provide a platform for new writers to gain literary renown, as well as contemporize teaching materials for Philippine literature in English.

Current anthologies of Philippine poetry and fiction are edited and dominated by well-established writers who form the local literary canon. This practice makes breaking through the publishing and literary worlds difficult for newer authors, many of whom have only published individual poems or stories in magazines and journals. The New Voices anthologies seek to draw attention to a new generation of Philippine writers by filling a gap between the authors’ publication of individual poems or stories in periodicals, and the publication of their first book.

New Voices will feature approximately 15 poets and 10 fiction writers. The selection process will begin immediately after the deadline and end by May 2015. Authors of accepted manuscripts will be notified as soon as the selection process is completed.

The submission guidelines are as follows:

1. The call is open to new writers of any age who are Filipino citizens holding permanent residence in the Philippines.
2. A “new writer” is one who has yet to publish a book (sole authorship) in the specific genre for which he or she is submitting a manuscript. A book that comes out before the deadline of submissions for New Voices will disqualify its writer.
3. Each qualified writer may submit only one manuscript file for each genre. For poetry, the submission file should consist of seven to 10 poems, or the equivalent of 10-15 pages in book form. For fiction, the set of submissions should consist of three to five stories, or a total of around 10,000 words, or the equivalent of 15-20 pages in book form.
4. There is no prescribed style or theme for the submission contents, but they should represent the author’s skill and range, and as such may or may not have been previously published. If published, however, provide the bibliographical information.
5. All poems should be pasted in the preferred order, single-spaced, into one document file; the same goes for short story submissions. The prescribed font types are Times New Roman, Garamond, Arial, or Calibri, standard font size 12. Please include a short profile or bionote of no more than 300 words on the last page of the document.
6. Only online submissions will be considered. The document file to be attached should be in .doc, .docx or .rtf, and labeled with the author’s last name and the title of the first poem or story in the submission (e.g. Arcellana THE YELLOW SHAWL.doc). The filename should also be indicated in the e-mail’s subject line.
7. The deadline for submissions is 11:59 PM, Philippine Standard Time, on April 1, 2015.
8. The editors reserve the right to edit any and all materials accepted for publication.

For inquiries and submissions, contact the editors at newvoicespoetry2015@gmail.com or newvoicesfiction2015@gmail.com. Please specify ‘inquiry’ or ‘submission’ in the subject line.

[ info and image lifted from this site ]

call for submissions to ‘sustaining the archipelago’ (an anthology of philippine ecopoetry)

Contributions of poems about nature, species, disasters, environmental justice, and our interrelations with these are now welcome in an anthology of Philippine eco-poetry entitled “Sustaining the Archipelago.”

The importance of compiling our experiences with our ecosystem is evident in what we see around us: our country is one of the 17 megadiverse nations in the world and as such, we live in extreme biodiversity. We are even called, to quote from the 1997 publication entitled “Megadiversity,” one of the earth’s “biologically wealthiest nations.” Yet, those labels are in sharp contrast to our reality of being a “Third World” nation. Using the terminology “megadiversity” to describe any country is appealing, yet it also opens an onslaught of problems which even the Areas of Biodiversity Importance recognize: they say that the nations who are biologically richest are also the nations whose ecosystems are under severe threat. The 2014 Environmental Policy Index confirms this, since the Philippines only ranks 114 out of the 178 environmentally-healthy nations. For one such megadiverse nation, this is an alarming discrepant and an indicator of misaligned values, policies, beliefs, practices, and an overall issue with the utilization of natural resources. It is in the ruthless destruction and degradation of our archipelago that the ecological consciousness of society must be permeated by any means possible – especially through poetry.

What is Ecopoetry?
Ecopoetry has been defined as a poem which investigates both thematically and formally the relationship among language, nature, culture, and human perception of these. It is also widely accepted as a poem which offers a view of the world; an understanding of the nonhuman environment; joy and experimentation with and among nature; and most importantly, an acknowledgment of the responsibility affiliated with writing about the environment. Thus, an ecopoem must not only show the relationship among local language, nature, culture, and human perception, but also investigate the possibilities of offering a view of the environment, an interrelationship with and among species, and the writer’s burden of responsibility in transcribing the natural.

The Future of Ecopoetry in Sustaining the Archipelago 
This project of compiling ecopoems which speak of our ecological interrelationship is to hopefully prove that there is power in language – a power which can effectively show the picture of our lives to awaken our senses, connect us with ourselves and others, and lead us to think in radical ways.

There is a possibility that if we acknowledge the poetic beauty, its force, and capacity to reach out to all of us, we may be given the chance to recognize our responsibilities in maintaining the delicate balance of our ecosystem. In turn, it will allow us to lighten our footprints in our archipelago and in the world. And because poetry speaks personally, its message is delivered quickly, clearly, emotionally, effectively. This anthology may broaden the possibilities of coming up with sustainable solutions to the ongoing environmental crises - a clear and practical way for Filipino writers and their literariness to contribute to the fight against climate change.

Submission Guidelines
Please email your original and published or unpublished ecopoems to the editor, Rina Garcia Chua (rinagarciachua@gmail.com), with the subject heading: Sustaining the Archipelago Submission.

You may send multiple poems or a collection of poems, but it may not exceed more than 10 pages and must be in a Microsoft Word Document file (.doc or .docx). Ecopoems in Filipino and other languages are more than welcome and must be accompanied by an English translation. If your ecopoem has been published elsewhere, please include a bibliography entry of its previous publication at the end of the poem. If it has been simultaneously accepted in another publication, please notify the editor immediately.

Also, follow the filename of your document file/submission as such: lastnamefirstname_titleofcollection titleofpoem.docx (e.g. RotorAbercio_PoemsinTranquility.doc). You can email your essay as a file attachment and include a brief bio-note of 100 to 200 words, institutional affiliation, contact number/s, and email address.

The deadline for submission is on May 15, 2015.

There are a number of confirmed contributors, as well as a foreword from Dr. Greg Garrard, the author of the books Ecocriticism (The New Critical Idiom) and The Oxford Handbook of Ecocriticism. There are also international and local publishers who have shown interest in the anthology. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the editor via the given email address. 

[ artwork by Marianne Amor Romina Abuan, poster by Jose Avelino Vergara, info and image lifted from this site ]

last breath

When people ask me how to read a poem (which always happens a lot when they learn about my undergraduate degree), I always tell them to try reading Robert Hass, Stephen Dunn, or Mark Strand. Especially the last one. “Just feel the words,” I would suggest. Meaning, let them sink deep on their own. Poetry, like love, cannot be forced. Though I only know a few poems from Strand, these few have left an imprint of deep admiration in me. That is why when news about his death came this morning, I can only think of this as a token of gratitude for his lasting genius: To read more of his works, to continue feeling his words. Below is a newfound favorite.

*

Breath
Mark Strand (1935-2014)

When you see them
tell them I am still here,
that I stand on one leg while the other one dreams,
that this is the only way,

that the lies I tell them are different
from the lies I tell myself,
that by being both here and beyond
I am becoming a horizon,

that as the sun rises and sets I know my place,
that breath is what saves me,
that even the forced syllables of decline are breath,
that if the body is a coffin it is also a closet of breath,

that breath is a mirror clouded by words,
that breath is all that survives the cry for help
as it enters the stranger's ear
and stays long after the world is gone,

that breath is the beginning again, that from it
all resistance falls away, as meaning falls
away from life, or darkness fall from light,
that breath is what I give them when I send my love.

art therapy

Christmas came in early this week. Got 36 watercolor pencils all neatly arranged in one fancy tin case. So I made a color wheel as a note to myself for having not made any form of art—visual or literary—in a very long while. It’s a crime on this side of the planet (read: my sanity). Getting back to something you love to do after having ignored it for a year or so is no easy task. You can say it’s a dry spell. I’d like to believe the color wheel above resembles a mandala. This could be my own little universe, your universe, where calmness is the ultimate reward to one’s self, where colors are a salve to the soul.

what national artist?

Four National Artist awardees of 2009 being invalidated broke news just recently. The order issued to the four by then President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was nullified because it “disregarded the rules of the National Commission on Culture and the Arts (NCCA) and Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) in giving ‘preferential treatment’ to the four in the selection of awardees.” (The Philippine Star). 

The one who spearheaded this case was Commissioner of NCCA, National Artist for Literature Virgilio Almario. In a capsule, it stated that all was made without proper procedure. And being the most vocal and more visible in the media among the four, Carlo J. Caparas retaliated on national television.

“Kilala ako sa buong bansa. Itong mga tula ni Almario, walang bumabasa,” Caparas said (I’m recognized all over the country. These poems by Almario, they’re not read).

As a practicing writer, his words struck a nerve. Being mostly unread by the mass is always a given to those who toil for literature. It is a lonely craft, so they say. Though this is more of a personal claim, I believe writers do not aim to please, as compared to Caparas and his body of works. His profession doesn’t make him less accomplished on what he must be oh-so trying to do for many years.

Cartoonists or comic book artists can be as revered as ballerinas, architects, or even poets. But here’s the catch: He’s not the artist of Panday or Bakekang. Never has been. He’s only the brain behind it. Thus, the title of National Artist for Visual Arts bestowed upon Caparas is beyond comprehension. That fact alone makes the conferment null, void, and overtly embarrassing.

Besides, the National Artist award requires a certain gravitas, a respect mined not by measures of fame but of influence. A National Artist brings ripples to society with his or her introspection of the human condition, may it be through dance, lyric or sculpture. A National Artist never brings attention to himself (hopefully).

But he is right on one point. Almost everyone knows him in the country. And I guess here rests the problem of his logic: Popularity entitles quality.

It is sad Caparas keeps this myth close to his heart. All hopes for progress would certainly go down the drain if anyone’s thinking goes in line with this. With his statement, it seems we have to agree that what brings more applause, what is trending on Twitter, what is consistently shoved on our faces is the one that truly matters, the one thing that we must not ignore. For heaven’s sake. These so-called Minions are famous, but that doesn’t make them food for the soul, right? Junk food is famous among children but that doesn’t make it healthy, right? Right.

I will not argue any further.

The point is, if Carlo J. Caparas insults another National Artist who does deserve the title, demeans the rest of the pantheon of Philippine letters, then to the Gates of Hell with him. Because on the bright side, that would be a fantastic comic book story for many writers.

spoliarium and the 31st national book awards

I just met Juan Luna. His famous work that is, the Spoliarium. And it is spelled as such, not the often-used “Spolarium.” Many years ago, the nearest I could get into seeing it were on television, history books, art magazines, and the internet. I’ve been based in Manila for three years and haven’t gaped at it in person until last November 17. It’s like—as how a friend’s friend put it—being in Paris and not seeing the Mona Lisa at the Louvre Museum in Paris. Really embarrassing for any art enthusiast.

The 4.22 meters x 7.675 meters oil painting, housed in the National Museum of the Philippines, was Luna’s piece to the Madrid Art Exposition in 1884 which actually won him a gold medal. To say that it easily topped the said competition is an understatement. It depicts the aftermath of a gruesome spectacle in Rome that is a gladiatorial match. Spoliarium, according to the museum’s official site, refers to “the basement of the Roman Colosseum where the fallen and dying gladiators are dumped and devoid of their worldly possessions.”

 

The work is vast but the emotional force it contains is bigger, much more enormous than its canvas. Every wrinkle on every face, every wilted limb of each lifeless man constitutes to a story that transcends what it visually features: the frailty of human life, the impact of death, the everyday horror of what could happen next. Juan Luna’s Spoliarium—along with the museum’s other masterpieces by Fernando Amorsolo, Jose Joya, Cesar Legaspi, my favorites Ang Kiukok and Vicente Manansala, and many more— is proof that art remains one of man’s triumphant mementos that become richer, more profound, and more relevant in each passing time.

*

On the same day and in the same place, around five in the afternoon, I attended the 31st National Book Awards for the nomination of Ian Rosaless Casocot’s Beautiful Accidents in the Cirilo F. Bautista Prize for Short Fiction in English. (See full list here).

 

And, apparently, without prior knowledge, I could also be in the event for Under the Storm: An Anthology of Contemporary Philippine Poetry (edited by Khavn De La Cruz and Joel M. Toledo) nomination in the Manila Critics Circle Special Prize for a Book by an Independent Publisher. My longish piece “Stones” is one of the 150 poems featured in this collection.

 

Held in the venue’s magnificent old session hall, the whole affair felt like a night of overflowing champagne in the gilded age. Though both books lost in their respective categories, we had a sumptuous late dinner at Tao Yuan Restaurant in Malate we all felt like big winners. And in the end, our appetite was the bigger winner.

creativity here, creativity there

“Ba’t andameng creative sa Visayas at Mindanao?”

Or, “Why are there so many creative individuals in Visayas and Mindanao?” A few days ago, someone I recently talked to put forth that loaded question. He was referring to people in the field of literature, visual art, dance, music, etc. He sounded earnest. I did not exactly know what to say, but the first thought in mind, without linking myself to the individuals he was referring to, was that maybe people in these regions have less distraction to deal with.

It is not that the provinces in the VisMin area are deficient of any standard, time-killing fare (i.e. cinemas, politics, parties, anything Apple); it just feels to me that way, especially for someone whose education from kindergarten to college is rooted in Bohol and Negros Oriental. I have lived and breathed in these islands’ atmosphere firsthand.

But it was an unsatisfactory response to a very objective question. Why, really? And, in the first place, what accounts as “many?” How is that, or could be, measured? By affiliation? By influence? By collective output?

When I was mulling the question over and over like an agitated patient with his stress ball, an assumption (yes, assumption, because I couldn’t prove it) made itself clear in my head: Competition.

Maybe there is this less spoken rivalry palpable in this land (where I currently resided on) but which is less spoken in the other island groups. Maybe the circles here just never intersect, their opposing ideals explicitly brandished or publicized in journals, anthologies, and even in pedestrian conversations over beer, that the possibility of a Venn diagram of shared understanding is unheard of.

Maybe with this competition, all eyes are only set to the champions who wave the flags in each side, or to those newly minted with some sort of bestowment, or to anyone who is raised to higher ground of attention. Thus, maybe, the idea of the creative is limited to those who are frequently exposed, thus the feeling that creativity somewhere else is profuse, thus the left field question of my acquaintance. Maybe the goal is sheer publicity—whether it is in a very, unflattering shade or not—and whoever is on the sidelines better luck next time and try perpetually harder.

But Visayas and Mindanao, of course, are not saints in this department. Each has its own conflicts when it comes to this tangible asset which is creativity. The two have competitions, but as what I have said earlier, maybe in a less spoken degree, downplayed. Maybe, maybe.

Yes, competition encourages discourse, brings more works, making the nation’s archive of visions richer and more original than the previous generation, but I think it is not the end all, be all of a flourishing, borderless, Filipino creativity. There must be another way.

And I, or should I say we, will now have to think what it could possibly be.

last seen somewhere

October 8. Saturday was not as promising as I had expected. It rained, so I holed up at home doing things that needed to be done: cleaned the house, did the laundry even on a rainy day, ironed the clothes, read a couple of books, continued working on a couple of drafts. When the whole routine shifted to the dreary, an interesting thought came into mind: the book launching of Last Seen After Midnight, the fourth Trese book by Budjette Tan and KaJo Baldisimo at Bestsellers, Robinson’s Galleria.

(I actually haven’t read the series yet, the first being Trese: Murder on Balete Drive [followed by Unreported Murders, Mass Murders, and then Last Seen After Midnight], but people I know who are into graphic novels keep egging me to, so that afternoon I deduce the launching of the latest book would be a perfect start to get into the world of Alexandra Trese).


I did the usual practice of attending such event: I bought all four books (it would be a shame for a freshman to buy the fourth one without the first three, right?), attended the interview portion of the artist (KaJo) and the author (Budj), listened to the question-and-answer portion, lined up to have my books signed (of which, I unexpectedly met Peachy Paderna, lining up as well with his “boy”). And I find the men behind the comics humble, just saying.


Back home, I read the first two sets, and now here is a little hail of first impressions:

• KaJo Baldisimo’s artwork is really good, polished to say the least. It has been a long time that I have seen black and white rendered so gorgeously and original. Though I notice a slight change of look or feel or whatever that is between the first case (the stories are told in episodic/procedural cases) of Murder on Balete Drive to the last case of Unreported Murders, the drawings portray Manila as a character that is both familiar and strange, and that alone merits a two-thumbs-up. Monochrome, this time, is sexy (though I’ve seen in Rogue magazine last year an excerpt of a Trese story in full color, and it is just as striking).

• Budjette Tan’s periodic stories often leave me wanting for more, as if this and that should be stretched and be mined for more, say, thrills and twists. But I guess this is the maximalist in me talking. This kind of telling has its plus-side though: you can read the tales in no particular order.

• As a practicing fiction writer, I read as much varied materials as I can to widen my scope, and I find Tan’s mythic, folkloric creatures crossing the modern world nothing new. But ‘nothing new’ does not necessarily mean it is bad. Also, this is not to say Tan’s concept is unoriginal. Nothing new could be saved by the rendition of small but refreshing takes of the proverbial (who would’ve thought of St. Elmo’s Fire coming out of a cellular phone as weapon/ally?), and Tan succeeded in giving that in his Trese books. And comparing short fiction to graphic fiction seems unfair, so I’m ending this discussion right now.

• The Kambals, the mandatory sidekicks, are funny, which I think serve as a perfect contrast to the protagonist’s grim disposition. And during the book launch, I’ve overheard from my seatmates that they have an interesting turn in the third installment, so I am excited to flip open Mass Murders soon.

• I know it is too early to demand this, after reading only two books, but I wish the underlying narrative of Trese (I know there is! It always has! It should!) would dive deeper into the Philippine mythology. After all, there is more to our horror stories than aswangs, tiyanaks and manananggals. And I hope Baldisimo’s and Tan’s publishers would grant them more lifeblood (e.g. budget) to continue Trese since there are legends that could be a wealthy source of stories, too.

• In three words: I enjoyed Trese.

freedom as respect and humanness

[Statement on the National Artist Awards]

The head of a country or state who is truly enlightened provides the populace with the exercise of freedom not just for the government’s considerations but, most important, freedom as every individual’s right and privilege. To be aware of freedom as the individual’s possession requires the respect for his personality, for his considered actions, for his beliefs and decisions. A favorite American saying goes this way: “Your freedom ends where my nose begins;” this saying stresses how personal this requirement for freedom goes, with the specific anatomy as the limit that one’s freedom can go.

What is meant by a country’s head being enlightened? By this enlightenment is meant the awareness that at the very primary root of freedom is the human presence, humanity that demands respect – because without this respect one might as well be dealing with the most fearful and undomesticated of animals.

A well-run government’s decisions are based of course on respect for rules and regulations,and the respect always is rooted in the awareness of the acknowledged group’s right and well-considered performance of its duty.

Dr. Edith L. Tiempo

National Artist for Literature

August 6, 2009

sudden changes

It is not that abrupt. As a matter of fact, it almost took us a month to finish the facelift of the Weekly Sillimanian office. Wait, there’s something wrong in this statement. Let’s change it into this: As a matter of fact, it almost took us a month to decide what to do with our office and another month to actually start “facelifting” it when we finally decided of discontinuing our efforts as frustrated Michelangelos or Da Vincis and started giving the job to the real painters.

And this is the result. Can you spot the difference between the two? Of course, you can.

before

after

From a monochromatic, low-spirited, cobweb-infested office to a colorful, candy-coated, pseudo-daycare center, the Weekly Sillimanian office has evolved—I guess, for the better. I, Camille and the rest of the editorial board have planned of this a long, long time ago pa (I remember, ‘twas on the first month of the second semester), to do something with the office's tables, chairs and shelves. It is only at the end of the school year that actions take place. Because of some enigmatic reasons, working progress suddenly stopped. And since it is April already, the obvious has surfaced: no one will ever finish the job. So, a credit to our editor-in-chief’s brilliant but often misinterpreted as lousy ideas, painters were hired.

In honor of the past dreary look of the office, I have made an album (entitled “For Old Time’s Sake” in my Facebook and Multiply) consisting of various shots of numerous corners. This may not be a gratifying avowal for our parents to know—who pay the bills of our apartments, boarding houses and dormitories—but in college the office is our home. Yes, we sometimes hated it but it will be forever loved.

P.S. I will now personally call this office The Rainbow Hub.

words. ink. paint.

Yesterday, March 15, I opened my first solo exhibit.

But why is it called Lines Verses Lines? It is a simple play of words on how to describe my works; lines on the canvas and lines on the paper. Lines could also mean the singular unit of structure that make up a stanza, make up a poem. Of course, the verse refers to the poems while some of my poems refer to a visual artwork. I just have the urge to infuse two fields of art, visual and literary, to present in one show and Lines Verses Lines is the result.

What I really want to say right now is “thanks.” Thanks because the exhibit opened very fine (although I didn’t see some expected people), thanks because both familiar and unfamiliar faces appeared, and thanks because it happened. It was one great birthday and graduation gift for me (the exhibit ends on my birthday, March 29).

To everyone who is involved in this first major undertaking, I’d humbly say that though the stars can never be reached at all times, there is the moon that will always sympathize and share light. And I believe all of you are the closest moons around. To Moses Atega, Budjai Dollente, Phillippe Credo, Ms. Carmen Cabrera, Bambi Yap, and many others, daghang salamat.

More pictures of the event here.

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a shameless plug

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dbss poster no.3

Submit your literary works in .doc format to

darkbluesouthernseas@gmail.com

Include a short bionote stating your full name, course, year level and anything worth bragging off. This is open to all Sillimanian students, alumni, panelists and fellows of the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop. The foreword of the Dark Blue Southern Seas (DBSS) 2009 will be written by Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas. Deadline is on January 9, 2009.

dbss poster no.2

Submit your literary works in .doc format to

darkbluesouthernseas@gmail.com

Include a short bionote stating your full name, course, year level and anything worth bragging off. This is open to all Sillimanian students, alumni, panelists and fellows of the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop. The foreword of the Dark Blue Southern Seas (DBSS) 2009 will be written by Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas. Deadline is on January 9, 2009.

dbss poster no.1

Submit your literary works in .doc format to

darkbluesouthernseas@gmail.com

Include a short bionote stating your full name, course, year level and anything worth bragging off. This is open to all Sillimanian students, alumni, panelists and fellows of the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop. Foreword of the Dark Blue Southern Seas (DBSS) 2009 will be written by Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas. Deadline is on January 9, 2009.

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imaging

Danikook, an online buddy in my Multiply account who's also one of the great photographers I know, made this amazing picture and sent it to me. I didn’t really know why but upon looking at this link (from him, of course) which was entitled "United Colors of Multiply" in my inbox, I found out I was not the only one who got his or her profile picture digitally tweaked. I loved it! Also, I wondered why he chose that shattered glass look.... Does "brokenness" strongly emanated from my picture? Yay!

Anyway, just take a look here for the rest of the photos; maybe you’ll find yours in it too.
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makulay ang buhay

Razcel Salvarita, an artist friend of mine, sent me this. And looking "cool" (I mean that as an understatement) as always with the rest of his works, he will be printing this on shirts to fully realize that unimaginable marketing dream he has. And he’s going to have an exhibit of some sorts at the Luce Auditorium Lobby, Silliman University, this December! Oh, how I wish I could mount a solo exhibit of my works, too, before I graduate.

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premature outcome

Upon lazily lounging on the sofa with an Alice Walker novel at hand, a thought clouded my mind I didn’t understand the first three sentences. “I can’t stay like this forever,” I mumbled to myself. Bracing the uncertainty ahead, I searched for my pencil, eraser, ruler, pens, brushes, and a bottle of ink at various places I never imagined they were actually there (I planned of making a pen and ink A3 piece). The urge to revive my embarrassing talent in visual arts, or whatever is left from it, was so stimulating that afternoon (embarrassing because I didn’t get anything to be proud of from this talent other than filling our house with framed works only the family ghosts appreciate). As I was starting my sketch, my mind went suddenly blank that I gained nothing more but a piece of paper being scrawled with already-mysterious lines only my fickle and elusive inspiration can comprehend. I stowed my materials back into their places and picked up the Walker book. What a waste!

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tree

Matatag means solid, firm, and steady. And ever since in my mind, when I’ve heard this word back in high school, stepping into our campus fresh from a sated vacation and just to be surprised by the administration’s newly established military system, the picture that immediately was a tree. I was not precisely sure but the tree, for me, gave me the perception of stability and composure. That was why the attack of the inevitable boredom of the day, which left me clambering in front of the computer in defeat, made my waning artistic abilities spark up in rage: I created this:

I know it’s not much to be placed side-by-side with prominent emblems of other organizations but, nevertheless, I am proud for creating such work, because finally, our Facebook, Friendster, and other social networking site accounts will now have a semi-formal feel to the once-deprived outlets for relaying messages, posting announcements, and whatnot. Looks so infantile? That’s just a draft. I can always create a new one—and maybe not a tree, anymore.

By the way, “Matatag” was our high school batch’s designation for the whole brigade; there were Makisig, Magiting, and many more Filipino adjectives that start with the letter “M.” Masarap? Malandi? Well, I am not hoping for those designations to come in reality but, without doubt, it would be fun calling the seniors those tags.

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a personal art festival

It is a fact that I had complained a lot of things regarding my two-month break away from campus activities. If I could inscribe the trite elementary essay with the theme “How I spend my Summer Vacation,” it will generally contain grievances and non-wholesome vivid descriptions on how to combat the stress.

And to maneuver my mind away from doing any more foolishness, it was a good thing that the good sensible person of me got into something, let’s say, arty. Because of my recently concluded stagnation in my home, where the cycle of sleep-eat-television-internet-sleep was the fad, I filled up my time painting and sketching that at some point relieved my boredom a bit.

As of June 6, 2007, I have done 11 starving works in the world of visual arts. And here are some of the products of those long lazy days (hmm, I cut the images into pieces for this post; I don’t want anyone to copy the whole thing if someone would even dare).

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