"The Fugitive" Movie Review

THE FUGITIVE ★★★★★

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If there's one thing you should know about me, I'm a huge fan of thriller and suspense movies. And knowing me, one who really isn't the movie kind of person, this is saying a lot. In fact, there was a point in my life that I had watched too much of these movies that I ended up being a paranoid, suspiciously looking behind me at malls and thinking everyone had a plan to abduct me or something.

The Fugitive was about a man, Dr. Richard Kimble, who was wrongly accused of the murder of his wife. The police believed he was guilty. But while he was on a train - alongside other convicts - towards their punishment (death by syringe), something went out of hands. And before he knew it, Kimble was running for his life. On his trail was Deputy Gerard Lee, desperate to catch him, and resorting to all means possible. But Kimble was intelligent, and this hunt turned out to be more difficult than he expected.

This is probably one of my favorite thriller movies now. It makes me feel saddened about the quality of suspense these days (a review on another movie I watched will explain this), while this, written more than twenty years ago, when technology wasn't as good, was a masterpiece. There was a sufficient mixture of suspense, smart characters, and a good plot. And with Harrison Ford as the main guy, what else could I ask for?

There was some twist too (although our mom spoiled us, much to our annoyance). But what I really appreciated was the fact that Kimble didn't survive just because of sheer luck but out of his efforts. And yes, he was pretty smart too. In what movie did you see the protagonist actually make sure the enemy is secure before leaving? Very rarely. Finally, someone with enough brains to haul his dear life out of death.

Apparently, this is my first Harrison Ford movie. And of course this won't be the last. Looking forward to watching more suspenseful movies involving him.

Review of "Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter #2)" by Jeff Lindsay

DEARLY DEVOTED DEXTER (DEXTER #2)

by Jeff Lindsay 

A man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else's box of matches.

I thought I was going to like this better than the first installment, but I turned out to be wrong. There were a couple of things that made me like this, of course. First, I appreciated the effort that Dexter was trying to be normal; and it certainly was interesting to watch and see him try. Second, someone was finally becoming suspicious of our good old serial killer.

But I have a few issues too. 

The Dark Passenger seemed to be tugging on his sleeves to much, wanting to be the driver. How was Dexter actually able to resist this temptation? Again, he seemed too good to be true. Or indeed, maybe this was just the effect of trying to act "human" long enough. That being the case, one wouldn't really be able to expect too much slashing for Dexter's part here in Dearly Devoted Dexter. Speaking of which, Jeff Lindsay couldn't seem to think of new cases aside from cutting off body parts. But at least this time there was a twist.

Sure, Dexter was becoming more human, and yet he had shrugged his shoulders at Sergeant Doakes coldly. But sometimes, he would be narrating how happy he was, etcetera. I'm just saying that Lindsay should be clear about this "feelings" thing because it was inconsistent throughout the story.

There were more things I was quite comfortable about. Particularly, the thing between Debs and Kyle. Like what our now Sergeant Morgan always say, "What the fuck that does mean?" Seriously, when did that idea even emerge out of thin air, and dear Lindsay, we'd appreciate some help, you know. You could at least have given us some explanation. And, more importantly, is this problem that was also present in the first book and I had hoped would disappear: like other authors, Dexter was favored too much by his creator. He was always safe. And although there was certainly some suspense leading to his capture, in the end the readers would feel okay since we all knew deep inside that there was no way he would die, after all. True enough, look at what happened at the last chapter. Our dear boy was saved at the nick of time, while poor Doakes had to suffer too much. Okay, I don't really like the guy, but you'd have to feel bad for him. Lindsay treated him too badly and unfairly, like what he did to La Guetta at the first book. I'm seeing a pattern here. Hmm. Sounds suspicious.

Some tidbits were predictable (such as the thing about Cody), but most of them weren't, so I guess that's a plus point.

Maybe I'm being quite unfair to Lindsay too. But hey, don't take it the wrong way. I love Dexter to death and that's enough reason for me to go on reading to the end of the series.

Review of "Venus in Furs" by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

VENUS IN FURS ★☆☆☆☆

by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

Love knows no virtue, no profit; it loves and forgives and suffers everything, because it must.

The first part of the book was quite sufficient and interesting enough. The haunting visions of the beautiful Venus wrapped in her furs dominated the beginning of the story. As Severin's tale was unfurled, it became a curious thing to see how far Wanda would go to feed his insane dreams and fancy, which primarily involves whipping him and completely dominating him. Basically, what Severin wanted was to be wholly under the power of a dazzling woman - who Wanda seemed to qualify - or so he thought. At first, Wanda was reluctant to abide by his wishes; she was experimenting. More often than not her compassion for the man would dominate and she would feel remorse for him, enveloping him in tender kisses to assuage the pain she inflicted. But Severin insisted that it was suffering he wanted. And that he was prepared to become a slave to the beautiful Wanda if thatwas the only way he could stay with her.

My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss, into which I subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing now which could save me from it.

Before the contract between the two was signed, Severin has already performed his duties as a servant faithfully, much to the pleasure of Wanda, who was becoming pleased with her new power and position. As the story progressed, Wanda became even crueler and crueler, until a point that Severin began to think that he was beginning to despise her. However, one kiss or one embrace from her would immediately vanquish such thoughts. This became Severin's weakness and was a crucial thing that led him to his sad fate.

Well, perhaps BDSM just isn't my thing, but I found it rather strenuous to read through the passages of torture and Wanda's harsh laughter resonating in the air. At the beginning, I didn't feel the pain much, because Severin actually enjoyed the pain, I too wasn't burdened with the whips and lashes. But as the time passed by, his masochism would sometimes wear off and I'd cringe slightly whenever he received his blows.

The characters are twisted and mad, especially Severin. Even Wanda too goes beyond the boundaries of normal. But then, perhaps the main reason why I decided to pick this up is because I've grown tired of reading about stories where men beat up the women violently. I want a change of scene. And, obviously, I didn't like it either. BDSM really is just not my thing.

Review of "I'm the King of the Castle" by Susan Hill

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I'M THE KING OF THE CASTLE ★★★★★

by Susan Hill

Creepy. Disturbing. Emotionally exhausting. 

But in my opinion, I'm the King of the Castle is one of the most well-written novels out there. It seems wrong to say that this is one of my favorite without me appearing to be someone twisted and all that, but let me tell you: this is probably one of the most interesting books that I've read for ages.

This should be more popular, and this definitely shouldn't be priced at 10 pesos (though of course I am not complaining about that part). I will admit, I bought this because of two reasons: (1) the unbelievably cheap price, and (2) because of the cover. I'm a huge fan of impressionist/ post-impressionist art, in case you don't know. And indeed, the painting turned out to be a work of Van Gogh. Anyway, if there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I'm thankful I bought this one.

It sure as hell was creepy. At first I thought it was a bit boring. Plus, the writing style of Susan Hill was simple and direct; she didn't bother with the flower descriptions (which was a drastic change from the novel I read previously, Paradise County). But soon, I was introduced to the character of Edward Hooper, shocked at his bluntness, shocked at the way his mind worked, given his age. In the beginning I could almost sympathize with him, I sort of understood his sentiments, and the fact that hereally didn't want anyone to come to Warings. 

However, when Kingshaw's point-of-view was shown, it became different. Kingshaw's fears were too real, too tangible, that I could feel everything that he was feeling--especially the way he was frightened about Hooper. The thing is, Kingshaw wasn't necessarily a coward; in fact, he was smart, and he didn't simply let Hooper have his own way. But heck, there was really something about Hooper.

The whole time, I was so tense and my heart was beating loudly, it was as though I were Kingshaw. Before I knew it, I had read at least 50 pages already without me noticing; that is how engrossed I was. I'm the King of the Castle is very hard to put down, once you've started to arrive at the suspenseful part. 

But, I suppose, that's the weird thing. This isn't really a thriller, and the things that Hooper did to Kingshaw weren't really as violent as I was expecting, but they were undoubtedly very frightening. It's the simple things that made everything so creepy. Those seemingly trivial things were the objects of terror during our childhood. God. I could feel Kingshaw's fear reverberating through the pages. And I couldn't believe the thoughts running in my head while I was reading this: "I want Hooper to die," and "If I were you, Kingshaw, I'd just run away and starve myself until I die" and stuff like that.

The characters? They're so difficult to wield into words. But hell, they're realistic. I'm so amazed Susan Hill was able to weave her characters like this. Although I'd say this book isn't really for someone young, I'm the King of the Castle shows that there are some things that adults will never understand. This as exemplified in the way that Mr. Hooper and Mrs. Kingshaw didn't even have the slightest notion as to what was happening between the two children. The kind of fear Kingshaw felt, not everyone could fathom that.

Several instances I found it so strenuous to go on, knowing that Kingshaw would have to suffer again sooner or later. But it's the idea of "not knowing" that made me continue, urging me to read forward because I was desperate to know what would happen next. Who would triumph in the end? 

Oh. And the ending. It was so tragic and sad, but I know that Susan Hill had no choice but to conclude the book that way. In the end, it would inevitably come to that, anyway. But goodness, I wasn't actually expecting her to actually to do it. It really makes me wonder how and why someone would make a novel like this--one that uses isolation as a central theme, one that uses children to symbolize several things, especially our fear.

It's hard to write a review for a book such as this one.

You really need to read it to understand.

Review of "Paradise County" by Karen Robards

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PARADISE COUNTY ★★★☆☆

by Karen Robards

I bought this for merely 25 pesos, and for its price, this surely was a very decent read. I wanted to read some romance and perhaps a bit of a thrill, and apparently Paradise County is the only romantic suspense that I have left. (I do need to start buying new books.)

Let's start with the romance. The tension at the beginning was nice, and as a reader, it really made you want to go on reading to see how things would end up. With the way Joe and Alex disliked each other when they first met (or technically, their second meeting), you'd think they wouldn't plausibly have fallen in love with one another anytime soon. But somehow or another they did, and it was interesting to read about the things that happened in between that gap. 

Indeed, the tension was too thick, especially in that shower scene. Alex's sexual awakening and the way her thoughts went were suspenseful, since it made me curious the entire time whether she'd actually act out on her impulses. The way her desires and thoughts were presented then was quite realistic and forceful, and I really could feel what she was feeling. And, days later, when she actually walked to Joe and kissed him, I was shocked and at the same time impressed with her courage. 

However, when the two finally began to be aware of each other (primarily after the scene mentioned above), the tension had dropped immensely, and I didn't find the romance between them as interesting as before. This continued until the end of the novel.

Now let's move to the suspense. Well, I was disappointed. Apart from the occasional scenes from the killer's point-of-view, there was hardly any thrill at all. I didn't get the sensation that I was seeking--that fingers-ramming-on-the-table and heart-hammering-against-the-chest kind of suspense. Too bad. It was mainly about Alex and her attraction to Joe, her paranoia in Whistledown, and so on. I was thoroughly disappointed that the romance and the suspense wasn't balanced, which should have been the case.

The characters? I didn't like Alex most of the time. I think she was a bit dull in the head, especially in times of distress. Neely could be very annoying, definitely not the kind of person I wish I knew. Eli and Josh were too 2-dimensional for my taste, and there was little development on their part. I think I like Joe best.

I have a few other comments. It was very predictable when Paul called her that the reason had something to do with their break-up. Or maybe that's just me, but I was able to guess it outright. Oh, and the way the universe just seems to favor Alex? It was plain annoying (as I've said, the break-up; and then the fact that they suddenly had to stay to the country for at least three weeks to develop her chemistry with Joe). I had some trouble with her prose, too. It was too flowery, and I believe Karen Robards could have done a great job eliminating those unnecessary description and adjectives. Which brings me, she has this tendency to spend a very lengthyparagraph just to describe the physical appearance of her characters. Okay. How many times did you think you have to mention about Alex being so gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, and Joe being so "mouthwateringly handsome," and "sex on a stick", before we understood? We got the gist already.

But despite that, I think Paradise County is okay because in some instances it got me hooked, and perhaps a bit excited about the romance too. I just thought that the conclusion messed up the whole thing. Sure, it was nice that Neely had a time to prove herself and to showcase her courage,but...the ending could have been better. 

It was very anti-climactic, especially when the killer just suddenly decided to set his lair on fire and escape (which was pretty stupid for him, too, if he really were as evil and cunning as he appeared to be). Then, in the next chapter, everything was okay. All of a sudden, things were already back in place. I could do with more suspense, I suppose. And the ending was just too abrupt. I was expecting more, I was wishing she'd tie the loose knots in the conclusion, but Karen Robards didn't. Anyway, I think I've been torturing this little paperback way more than I should have, but well, I was just hoping that I would really, really like this one.

Review of "Prey" by Michael Crichton

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PREY ★★★★★

by Michael Crichton

"If they were all concerned, why didn't they do something about it? But of course that's human nature. Nobody does anything until its too late."

Whoa. That was such an incredibly amazing read, I don't know what to say. Trust Crichton to make you read a book in one sitting. The longest will most probably take you two days. Most of his books (and I've read quite a lot of him already) I read in only a span of less than a day because it was just so damn hard to put them down.

For the first ten pages, Michael Crichton already got me hooked. He had this amazing skill of being able to transport you at once to the world of his characters, and this being a first-person narration, it made everything all the more powerful. As far as I know, he had never employed family ties as an important element in a story; at least, not like in Prey. It started out as a seemingly trivial episode of Jack's life as he tried to perform his daily activities as a "househusband". Then there was the usual dilemmas family encountered - siblings quarreling, misunderstanding between the couple, and so on. It was a nice change, since Crichton usually made his introduction dramatic and climactic. This time, he was trying to make everything mundane and let us have a feel first of the world the narrator lived in. And the thing is, it was very realistically portrayed, so much so that you'd think only someone who had firsthand experience of familial problems would manage to pull off something like that.

You couldn't complain about the suspense, either, because you'll be getting all the thrill you can possibly want. The whole time I had a difficult time forcing myself not to look at the bottom of the page to know what would happen to the characters.

"We looked at the world around us as a snapshot when it was really a movie, constantly changing. If course we knew it was changing, but we behaved as if it wasn't. We denied the reality of change. So change always surprised us."

I consider Michael Crichton at his best when he wrote about science, especially biology, his expertise. In fact, I'd admit he was one of my inspirations because he proved that science and creative writing could come together. Anyway, usually, I preferred it when he wrote in third-person limited, but I suppose Prey is an exception. The fact that the events could only be seen through the eyes of one person made everything more thrilling; and in the context of this story, it worked well.

Honestly, I can't find anything wrong with this novel. It wasn't too technical, as compared to the others. The details were being discussed in a conversational way that I didn't feel bored. And trust me when I say I really learned a lot of stuff while I was reading this.

I liked the characters because they were believable (not necessarily because they were likable), and I had witnessed their development, despite the short span of time. Although I'd admit, Jack also has one of the faults I found in Crichton's other characters: he was too heroic and brave, to the point of stupidity. But maybe that's what made him human.

Another comment is that some things were predictable. The moment Ricky appeared, I immediately knew that he might be the guy Jack's wife was having an affair with. And although it seemed to be true, Crichton used that seemingly disadvantage to weave something that was entirely unexpected. And because he still managed to impress me, I maintained the five-stars I was intending to give.

Classic Crichton. What more could I say? Definitely something I'd recommend to someone who hadn't read anything yet from this author. It really isn't surprising why this guy is one of my favorite writers of all time.

Review of "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens

A TALE OF TWO CITIES  ★★★★☆

by Charles Dickens

What an unexpected ride that was.

This is definitely not my first Dickens book; I've already read several others before, and thus far, I considered Great Expectations as my favorite. I was expecting that A Tale of Two Cities would change that opinion, this being primarily a love story and all (I am a sucker for romance, just so you know), but while I was reading, I wasn't too impressed.

When I was about halfway the third book, I told myself that Great Expectations still held the dearest place in my heart. I didn't find the romance in this novel sufficient for my liking; after Lucie and Charles had married, I thought that no other predicament could be encountered in their relationship anymore, thus I supposed I wouldn't have a touch for romance any longer. After all, Sidney Carton didn't seem like someone who'd suddenly interfere in their love for each other. I was disappointed with Dickens; for a novel so famously branded as "romance," it wasn't enough. Sadly, I didn't get what I was hoping for.

But then again, perhaps that's what made everything stand out. A good romance isn't merely about love triangles and such. Sometimes, one has to break the conventions and shine on its own right.

I'll talk more about that later. For now, I'll devote a few paragraphs for the characters in the story. I find some flaws in the way Dickens wove some of his characters; in this case, the problem is Lucie. She was just too perfect, too nice, too caring - she didn't seem to embody any fault; there basically wasn't anything disagreeable about her. The whole time I was reading, I found her character very suffocating, and it was a bit of a struggle to read her flowery and polished statements. But if her person wasn't too pleasing, the other women were commendable. The intimidating and domineering figure of Madame Defarge is an exemplary example. You could almost feel her coldness and apathy oozing out from the pages. And, of course, there was Miss Pross. That amazing, brave, and devoted woman - who wouldn't admire her?

For the other characters, I initially liked Charles Darnay, perhaps because of his rather rebellious air. I considered Sidney Carton too insignificant to garner my attention, and how very wrong I was. Anyway, as the novel progress, my admiration for Darnay began to dwindle; he too was becoming perfect. On the other hand, I suddenly became to notice Carton. When he headed to Lucie to confess his love, I was thoroughly irked. I liked Darnay to end up with Lucie then, I wanted the former to be happy after his struggle...but then again, after that chapter, my attention has wholly focused to Carton.

I think, I just found my favorite character so far in Dickens's books. His faults, his flaws, they all made him so human. Toward the end of the novel, when he visited Darnay in his cell, and when the enormity of what he was intending to do finally struck me, I was rendered speechless. Goosebumps dotted my arms, I was too stunned to go on, so much so that I closed the book and paused for a few minutes. He was ready to sacrifice his life, for someone he loved whom he knew he could never have. If thatwasn't enough romance, then I don't know what is. It's the very existence of Sidney Carton that made this novel very gripping and very powerful.

About majority of the time while I was reading, I was already ready to give this three stars, but as already mentioned, the conclusion changed that for me. Although it ended very tragically (as compared to his other works), it was the best choice for a conclusion. I didn't like the second book; I was confused on some parts and the other didn't make much sense. Of course, the third book was my favorite. It made me question humanity, too, especially in that instance when Darnay was freed because of the Doctor's influence - suddenly I felt Lucie's doubts and found logic in Madame Defarge's reasoning. Indeed, what about the others who weren't as lucky, but were as innocent as Darnay? 

But I didn't agree in most of Madame Defarge's point-of-view, of course. She was the embodiment of the crowd surrounding the La Guillotine - although it was wrong to kill the innocent, they'd agree to it, primarily to satiate their intense hunger for blood. It was the exact case with Madame Defarge, she had been too much blinded by her need for revenge, by her grim past, that she failed to distinguish the right and the wrong. A Tale of Two Cities was a powerful novel, perfectly showcasing how the society, how the human mind, works in the midst of a great distress. If there's one thing this novel taught me, it's never to give up on a book. Who knows, a gem might be hiding underneath, waiting to discovered. And the gem that I stumbled upon in the midst of all those mess is something that I will forever cherish.

Review of "A Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd

A SECRET LIFE OF BEES ★★★★☆

by Sue Monk Kidd

"If you need something from somebody always give that person a way to hand it to you."

This book is a gem. I read this as a late commemoration for the women's month, and it certainly was a fitting choice. It was very beautifully written too, not so artsy, not too simply: just right for a fourteen-year-old narrator. I can't point out what exactly it is that I like about A Secret Life of Bees. Was it the plot, the characters, or the symbolism? I found the constant appearance of quite endearing, it was as if I could hear the buzzing sound and see the whirring motion myself.

I can't say that I like Lily, sometimes I found her too unpredictable. But then again, I commend Sue Monk Kidd for being able to depict her accurately, based from her age. But certainly, I'd admit that she wasn't the most amazing heroine out there. If there's a character that I like, it must be August, or even more so, the calendar sisters in their entirety. I think I need not elaborate more on why I love those women. 

Perhaps, it was the story itself that got me going. While I was still at the beginning of the novel and still had about more than a hundred pages left to read, I was wondering, what more could happen in the span of those pages? After reaching Tiburon, South Carolina, what interesting thing could take place? The normalcy of the events was beautiful in itself; I was being exposed to a different time and a different culture. It was a wonderful reading experience.

Indeed, right after I read this, I felt so empowered as a young woman.

How on earth did I end up as a physics major?

If my thirteen year old self would have the chance to see me now, almost six years later, I think she would be completely dubious of the whole scenario - she would laugh incessantly at the unlikely possibility of pursuing a science degree, of being a student of the most prestigious university in the country, and many more. She would say that perhaps parallel universes do exist, and mine was just this distant and rather improbable future that she would never undertake.

I can't blame her. Even now, I still feel like I'm only trapped inside a lucid dream, that all of these things happening to me are merely a part of my imagination. Believe me when I say I had never ever considered the possibility of being a physics student. Not even in a curious fancy did it occur at the back of my mind. 

Dreams of an artistic career

My first dream was to be an architect because I loved drawing, which later evolved into interior designing as I reached my teenage years. I would spend hours in front of the television watching various designing programs at the Lifestyle network. However, when my friend showed me one of the plates of her sister, an interior design student, the reality suddenly assaulted me in the face with a sting. I knew I could never draw like that. I didn't have that kind of talent. Just because of that single seemingly trivial event, I began to dismiss the idea of becoming a designer. Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't seen that amazing artwork, I'm already an interior design student right now. (Not that I'm blaming her, but really, you can't help thinking of the things that could have been, but didn't.)

But I tested myself. I chose Bachelor of Fine Arts major in Painting as my second choice in the University of Santo Tomas, curious to know whether I'd actually pass the talent test. And boy, did I pass.

Dreams of a writing and a literary career

Aside from being an artist, I have always been a writer, having started at the age of ten. Back then I wrote poetry and a thousand unfinished novels in Filipino, but four years later, I began writing exclusively in English. 

When I was twelve years old, I got inspired by a certain Korean drama (and by my sister as well) to become a reporter. For some reason, though, I forgot about this as the beautiful possibility of being an artist when I grew up flooded my mind. But as I said, the said dream immediately disintegrated. It was also during that period when I was starting to become passionate in writing. I realized, hell, why don't I become a writer? I learned that a degree program called BA Creative Writing actually existed in the University of the Philippines-Diliman, and I was so giddy and filled with such intense excitement like never before. 

Then, I learned how slim my chances were of being accepted in the prime university, that I made BA Literature a substitute course. After all, it was more prevalent in other universities. Later on, this evolved into journalism. This change was primarily brought about by my mother, who told me that taking up literature would make me poor. 

All of this was reflected in some of my course choices later on: AB Literature (first choice in UST), BA Creative Writing (second choice in UP Diliman), and BS Development Communication (first choice in UP Los Baños).

Dreams of a career in the international scene

This dream of mine occupied my mind the same time the two mentioned above were being considered as prospects. I had always been fascinated with learning foreign languages. I was ten years old when I first tried to study a language on my own; back then, it was Japanese. When I was twelve, I formally took Chinese Mandarin lessons for two years. As the years passed by, I also found interest with European languages. In fact, I have bought books on Italian, French, and Spanish. I remember that one summer where I spent the majority of the vacation watching Youtube videos on learning French. It was time well spent. I want to learn Russian too someday.

Because I also loved traveling, I suddenly had this dream of becoming a stewardess. It seemed like the most amazing job. To better aid me in my dream career, I opted to take up a degree in tourism or in travel management. But, judging by the events that transpired in my life thus far, this dream didn't last as well. Good thing I realized that if there was one thing I am not and will never be, it's to be sociable. For someone to become a stewardess, she needs a pleasing personality and a gift of gab - two things I so obviously lacked.

Discovering geology

I think I discovered that BS Geology existed the summer before my fourth year high school. I was browsing through the courses in the UPCAT form, and somehow this caught my eye. Of course I had a smattering about what geology was, but it was too rare a course that it made me somewhat interested. I began surfing the internet to learn more about the program, and I was stunned.

It was the course that I had been looking for all my life.

I was eleven years old when I stumbled upon something on my science book: paleontologist. There was a short description of its work and I fell in love with it almost immediately. Later on, I thought it was under archaeology, so I told my mom I wanted to pursue that course when I grew up. Once more, though, she told me I had no future as an archaeologist. As simple as that, I had already swiftly dismissed the idea.

In my free time too, I'd find myself burying my head in the library, reading about nature, about the earth, and a great deal about volcanoes.

Since that fateful day in summer, I vowed to myself that I would become a geologist no matter what.

Deciding my future

So my fourth year of high school finally arrived.

I took entrance exams in three schools, namely (my course choices are also stated):

1. University of the Philippines
    Diliman: BS Geology, BA Creative Writing
    Los Baños: BS Development Communication, BA Communication Arts
2. University of Santo Tomas: AB Literature, BFA-Painting
3. Mapua Institute of Technology: BS Geological Engineering & Geology, BS Geology

I qualified for both UST and Mapua. For the latter, I was even chosen for the E.T. Yuchengco scholarship, though I only learned about this during the following summer, when I had already dismissed the idea of studying in the said school. I took the exam in UST, as I've said, mainly as a challenge for my skills.

Anyway, during my fourth year highschool, while I had been telling everyone who asked that I planned to study in Mapua, deep inside it was killing me because I wanted nothing but UP. I had been surfing the internet on numerous stories regarding the university and I fell in love with it, so much so that I began to tell myself, "UP or nothing." However, I didn't trust myself enough and I knew it was implausible for someone like me to qualify there.

January came.

And I actually passed.

But instead of rejoicing, I found myself silently weeping. I didn't make the cut for UP Diliman. What about my dreams of becoming a geologist? Nevertheless, I chose UPLB (BS Development Communication) over Mapua because I wanted to be a UP student. Only that.

First year as a UP student

If you've been following my blog, I suppose you already know this story. About 25% of my blog revolves around this. It would be too tiresome to narrate everything, so let me just give you the gist. Basically, it went like this: for the entire first semester, I was keen on transferring to UP Diliman the next academic year. However, during the start of the semestral break, I thought that perhaps DevCom might not be too bad after all. Thus I decided to stay.

Or so I thought.

All of a sudden my desire to become a science major rushed in again. My dreams of studying in UP Diliman as a geology student came back. And it stayed like that for the rest of the second semester, and the majority of the summer.

Becoming a physics major

When I was processing my papers for transferring to UP Diliman, I only applied for one college, College of Science. My course choices went like this (in order): BS Geology, BS Applied Physics, and BS Physics. It's pretty funny how the remaining two courses ended up like that. I think the main reason is, those are the only two courses wherein I could apply, since I didn't come from a science course. Perhaps, if the National Institute of Physics was stricter with the requirements, I wouldn't be what I am right now. Oh, the possibilities.

When I chose those two, I was planning to shift to BS Geology right after the next academic year. The idea of being a physics major terrified me, although I'd admit, it actually seemed pretty cool and amazing. During the summer, I spent some of my time reviewing my high school physics, because I thought such questions might arise in the interview. During that time, I seemed to have forgotten my interest for geology. While I was in fourth year, I never seriously studied for my physics exams, but when I studied then, I was thoroughly astonished, thinking that I wanted to master the so-called "most basic of all sciences" one day. Even more so, I thought it was utterly amazing to be able to perform all those calculations and mathematical manipulations, to spend hours just trying to solve one problem, and so on (or so I thought).

I was under the impression that physics was one of the most difficult degree programs, but then again, I thought that maybe I could survive if I studied hard. I considered shifting to BS Applied Physics in UPLB, primarily because of the Astrophysics lab. If there was a streak of being a scientist in me back when I was still young, I think it would be attributed to my love for dinosaurs and astronomy. Anyway, when I was comparing the curriculum of Applied Physics between UPLB and UPD, I thought the latter was much cooler.

Then came the orientation and interview.

If I remember correctly, the interview for physics came first, though it wasn't really an interview, in the truest sense of the word. We were merely given sheets of paper with several questions, most of them were multiple choice. I answered everything honestly, and when I say honestly, I really mean it. There was this question, and it went on like this: "If you got accepted here in NIP, do you plan to shift to another course?" Underneath, there was a statement written which said that we just had to be honest and they wouldn't be prejudiced, regardless of our answer. I believed them, and I admitted I planned to shift. Yes, I was still so intent on becoming a geology student.

A couple of days later, the orientation for geology finally arrived. The entire time, all my hopes of being a geologist disintegrated, and I upbraided myself for the stupid idea of believing I was qualified. There were over hundreds of aspirants back then, and only twenty five would be accepted. I basically had no chance. All of a sudden, I realized it. It was so simple.

I could never be a geologist  (aside from the aforementioned reasons, there were personal reasons too that I kept on trying to ignore). I realized the best option for me was to take up physics.

Just like that, I realized that I wanted to be a physics student.

But it wasn't easy to try reaching that goal.

First of all, I already told you about my messed-up "interview" for physics. Then, to make things worse, I didn't have a back-up plan. I failed to process the papers for shifting to applied physics in UPLB. It's an understatement if I say that I couldn't sleep every night and that I was always haunted by the grim possibilities that awaited me. I was pretty depressed, even my parents were begging me to be more cheerful.

You know how it all ended up, of course.

Despite everything, NIP gave me a chance and accepted me as a physics student.

And from there, my journey started.

Review of "Fight Club" by Chuck Palahniuk

FIGHT CLUB ★★★☆☆

by Chuck Palahniuk

All right. I don't know what to feel about this one. Did I like it? Was it amazing? Did it annoy me? I certainly don't know how to answer these questions. It took me a long time to read this because of college stuff, but I would admit: several instances I didn't feel like picking this up and read it for leisure. I don't know. The gist of the novel just wasn't fit for relaxation, as you might well know.

Why did I give it three stars then?

The conclusion of the novel decided that for me. And, of course, the fact that Fight Club is unlike other stories that I've encountered before. The narrator was a bundle of contradictions, which is shown in the style with which he told the story. Gritty, crisp; sometimes harboring innocence. Sometimes mischief. All I'm certain of is that the whole thing was very confusing indeed.

Fight Club started out very quickly. As a reader, you'd feel the tension as the narrator neared toward his destruction. And then, all of a sudden, you are grabbed back and forth through time and through different places. Most of the time what happened in between didn't make sense. But I read on, hoping to scavenge something extraordinary in this roller coaster ride of a novel, only to find violence, violence, bad ass characters, and more chaotic adventures. I felt like everything was simply turning round and round and that the plot wasn't going anywhere.

As I've mentioned, I was only starting to like it when I was nearing the end. By then it wasn't just about violence and Marla and Tyler - other people were starting to be a part of the scenario. It wasn't merely revolving on Joe mumbling about Tyler and his escapades - they were actually doing things together (like that thing at the hotel). Especially at the part when people were starting to call the narrator Tyler and he didn't have the faintest idea why. I would commend Chuck Palahniuk for the way he decided to weave the conclusion of the novel. Most of the things mentioned at the beginning of the novel were starting to make sense. 

Apparently, though, it didn't make the novel less confusing. Admittedly, I would say I have more questions than answers after reading Fight Club.

Failure

Okay. Breathe. Calm down. It's not the end of the world.

But the sensation is so new to me that I can't help feeling depressed, as if there isn't any chance anymore for me to recover. A day has already passed, but still I can't move on and try to forget about it. Pray tell, what am I supposed to do to feel better?

Relax. Okay.

I failed an exam. Sure, I already failed one before, but it was only a GE subject; and somehow, a miracle happened and I managed to get a flat uno when the sem ended. But this time, it's a different story. Suffice it to say that this is probably the first time that this has ever happened to me.

I know I studied. I spent hours in the library skimming through the thick hardbound book until my back ached, until I had grown sleepy. However, I do know one thing as well - I kind of crammed for two days or so, which I hardly did anymore ever since I reached college. And heck, chemistry really isn't the type of subject that someone like me should cram. I have absolutely zero idea about chemistry when I entered UP Diliman as a physics major. Stupid, stupid me. Not that I'm putting the blame to someone else, but I know too that the org application as affected this sudden turn of events. 

The score in my first exam was average, and that is not making me confident at all. When the sem started, I was aiming for at least a dos, but now that goal seems too far-fetched. 

To make things worse, it's our second long examination in physics a while ago, and I had quite a lot of careless mistakes it's beginning to stress me out. I'm beginning to think that maybe I'm not really molded to be a scientist. What a waste of effort, time, and money.I really felt like dropping out of college yesterday. Exaggerated, I know. But if you never failed an exam you wouldn't know the feeling.

However, if there is one positive thing that emerged out of this problem, it's that I suddenly came to value my studies even more. The "me" at the beginning of the semester was returning, back then majority of the time I would study nightly for the lesson that day. Admittedly, that habit has wholly vanished when 2014 came - I'd go to Chem 16 class without having studied at all, despite the fact that we have a DG (quiz) that day. I never understood anything about the lessons until I started studying for the exam. I know it's my fault. For one thing, I really never listened to the lecture class and would end up napping or doodling or writing.

Lesson learned. 

A while ago, the change in me has come. For the first time ever, I reviewed the previous lecture, so I would come prepared to class tomorrow. In fact, I might as well study in advance.

P.S. Good thing the standing in Math 54 came out and it gave me a burst of hope. My standing is 1.00. And the most ironic thing is that, I rarely study for this subject. It's time to change that, though, before I regret in the end.

Worst day ever.

Yes, you read the title right. Last semester, I dubbed a particular day as the worst as well, but today is taking it on a wholly different level. In fact, I have a feeling this won't end up to this day only. Monday has been very mean to me as well. So would Wednesday through Friday be, I'm certain.

Okay. Although I'm aware no one really visits and read my blog, I won't share the details of what transpired this day, and more particularly, how I felt about them. It would be too dangerous, lest anyone I know suddenly stumbled upon my blog.

What's making everything even worse is that my heart problem or whatever that I had about five years ago is coming back, in the most untimely moment. All of a sudden I would find it very hard to catch my breath, my heart is palpitating...I'm basically breathless. It can be very terrifying sometimes, I'm telling you. And - I know this will sound so weird and overly dramatic - sometimes I'd have this feeling like I'm about to die or something. God. I'm so messed up.

While I was still at school, I wanted so bad to write and my imagination was overflowing and I had about a thousand ideas for short stories. I wanted to cry and try to find some space and breathe, breathe, breathe...to stay away from people and read a good book or drink a warm cup of coffee. Apparently my options were so limited. I had a practical exam in the org I was applying for so I just couldn't try to refrain from "socializing". I just wanted to avoid people then. Even worse, someone said a bad thing straight to my face because I was being "maarte" or something. I don't know. I hate everything. I want to give up. I wanted to cry but I had classes. I tried to text some of my friends and give a hint that I was feeling bad and needed someone to talk to, but I was merely made fun of. God. Really, no one can actually comfort you when you're in need, no one can really help so I might as well shut up and keep things to myself. That's something I learned from high school. I have to bear that in mind always.

Worst day ever?

I think not.

There's still tomorrow, apparently.

Experiment 11: Unknown Analysis

This day has been awesome. No, in fact, this whole week had been a blast. Despite all my awkwardness and everything, I can say that I enjoyed these past few days because, well, it was amazing. I would surely like to rattle off about how this week went, but due to time constraints, I'll just be sharing about one relevant thing that transpired today - the unknown analysis.

I have a Chem 16 class every Wednesdays and Fridays at 7 AM. Last night I went home by 10 PM from the tambayan. I tried to finalize the assignment for chemistry and to be more productive, but I was so tired my eyes wouldn't stay open. I had no choice but to sleep. I awoke by half-past one (which was an hour late from the time I set in the alarm), did the assignment, prepared for the experiment, and slept at 4 AM. I set the alarm to 5:30 AM, but I was stunned when I awoke (after turning off the snooze numerous times), that it was already 6:30 AM, for goodness's sake. It was the first time that I had woken up that late. Good thing, I was able to leave the dormitory by 5 minutes to 7 AM. Our professor was a bit late, so I was safe. However, I was beginning to be very frantic by then. Today is Unknown Analysis day, and although I had prepared by scanning the manual and so, I was still terrified. I want to love chemistry, it's super cool, so much so that I initially planned to major in materials physics. But heck, it can be very difficult, and to someone who went to college with zero knowledge in the subject, it was even worse. I know I suck in this subject; good thing I passed the first exam with satisfactory results.

Okay. The experiment was a joke. After performing the cation test, I was able to limit my choices between zinc and calcium, since precipitate formed upon addition of NaOH. Upon performing the confirmatory test, formation of precipitate occurred again so I was certain I got Zinc. For the anion test, there was no visible reaction upon the addition of barium nitrate, so sulfate, phosphate, and carbonate were ruled out. After performing another test, it all went down to SCN and nitrate. God, I didn't want to perform the brown ring experiment. My solution looked weird; I mean, I didn't really achieve the colors that SCN or nitrate was supposed to have. However, I thought the solution looked peach (which it was supposed to be if it had SCN) and the toluene layer was colorless so I assumed thiocyanate was present. I approached my professor and was about to have my first guess...

...And he told me I got both guesses wrong.

I had never felt so inadequate in my life. I tried the elimination tests again for cation, and was able to rule out Ammonium. In the end, after several trials, I went to our professor and convinced him that there was zinc in my solution.

"Sir, precipitate formed upon addition of ammonia, so it's zinc. Precipitate also formed upon adding NaOH."

He surveyed my test tube and said, "Add some excess ammonia and observe whether the precipitate will dissolve."

It did. It must mean that there really is some zinc present. Fast forward, it turned out that there was some confusion involved. He said that he never told me zinc wasn't there. I replied that he said both of my guesses were wrong, so of course zinc was. Our professor admitted the existence of zinc and I felt so cheated since I repeated everything just to be sure.

The next problem would be the anion. If it weren't SCN, it had to be nitrate. I knew this, and yet I repeated the elimination and confirmatory tests because I didn't want to perform the brown ring experiment (the 18 M sulfuric acid sounded so menacing). But I was left with no choice so I performed it using my solution which already had the toluene layer, as was advised by my classmate. I was so ecstatic that the brown ring appeared, but in the end the process was wrong and I should have used a fresh solution. Sadly, upon doing so, nothing appeared.

I lamented this to our professor and he told me to repeat the experiment. Obviously, there really was nitrate on my solution. I just had to show him some proof. I repeated everything, to no avail. He must have pitied me because he said that there was indeed nitrate, but I was still lacking one more ion. I knew what it was all of a sudden, and I realized how cunningly our professor had chosen the other ion.

"Calcium," I said. He smiled and confirmed it. I was supposed to receive 15 points, but I only got 12. I'm not complaining.

High School

Last night, my friend said, "I really regret it right now. I wish I was able to spend my free time in high school wisely, doing the things that I enjoy but couldn't do now in college."

I thought about this. I suppose I couldn't really say the same thing for myself. I would admit, I was very lazy when I was still a high school student: I never studied after classes; most of the time I would do my assignments the morning before I go to school, or when I was already in school; I would only study for an exam the day before it, and so on. All I did then was read a bunch of books (Who on earth would regret doing this?). I was actually scolded more than once for being caught reading a novel while the teacher was discussing in front. Shame, I know, but hey - I loved every minute of it. Aside from that, I would spend hours surfing the net, watching anime, and reading manga. I always had something to do, and the majority of those stuff were unrelated to academics. I would practice playing the violin, I would continue writing my novel, I would start on a new story, etcetera. In a way, I was quite productive for a highschooler.

I miss those times. I haven't resumed writing my novel for almost a year now. Back when I was still a UPLB student during the first semester, I made sure that I would write at least a chapter a week, or every two weeks. I was very motivated, I was being a creative writer once again. But today, I don't think I'm capable of pulling off such a feat, what with the tedious and stressing second semester.

I absolutely miss watching anime continuously, as if there weren't tomorrow. I was very updated back then; but now, I am so behind several series, so much so that my brother seems to be more of an otaku than I am. I have copied a lot of animes from him, but whether I'd have the time to watch them or not is still the question.

I need to start now: watch one episode of Kuroko no Basuke, despite the fact that I still have to study for physics and math. I need something to cheer me up.

The Perks of Being an Introvert

Being an introvert really sucks big time, I'm telling you. Sure enough, in certain instances, it has its own advantages. A lot of people I know, of course, are aware of my introversion. It can be a fairly handy excuse whenever I don't attend parties, skip the class gatherings, and so on. But I can say that only my closer friends would be understanding enough; some could never comprehend the whole thing, primarily because they haven't the slightest notion of what it really is to be an introvert. Indeed, it can save you from a lot of trouble at times - instead of going to some celebration, I could just stay at home and read a good book, or listen to music. I never had problems with having to remain quiet for hours. I could bear that. I'm the type who has a pretty wild imagination as well: my mind is never idle. Furthermore, I never complain about being bored as hell when I'm alone. Being in solitude actually offers me a wide range of things to do, most of which I cannot enjoy when I have company.

However, as is obvious, I don't love this attitude of mine all the time. It stresses me, it drags down my already relatively low confidence, it makes me anxious . . . and all the other emotions I wish I can avoid, but never could. In a way, it's perfectly understandable, though. Occurrences such as these would only happen whenever I'm with people, or would have to try utterly hard to socialize. It never stops, it happens everyday, it happens all the time. It haunts me in my sleep. Unfortunately, some moments would be even worse than others. I would end up secluding myself, wishing I could go home, wishing I could write all my emotions down on a sheet of paper, wishing I could cry to release all this sadness. 

Perhaps today would be the first for the year 2014. No doubt, it annoys me to even think about my sheer awkwardness, my damnable introversion, my intense shyness, and everything else despicable about myself. I often wish I could turn back time and try to be more sanguine, greeting the elderly always, befriending everyone, smiling all the time. 

I wish I could. I really do.

But it's too late now.

Dreams and Inspirations

Due to the thoroughly stressing academics in my previous semester, I was not able to "fangirl" as often as I used to. For the first month, sure, I was able to read some manga, but I couldn't go on because I was too busy, trying to keep up with my demanding workload. However, I managed to be productive in terms of my literary side. Despite everything, I was able to read eight novels for the first semester (all of which are classics). I also had several realizations and epiphany, thanks to my GE class, English 11. Taking that subject up was one of the best things I could have done - it reminded me of the things I loved but I had neglected as years passed by. Thanks to that course, I was able to revive my passion in poetry. And it is with much pride that I shall tell you how enormously I have improved in writing that form of literature.

Since my first semester in UP Diliman was dedicated to that aspect of my life, I decided to focus this time on my "fangirling" tendencies. The flame inside me strengthened this Christmas, wherein I watched Japanese dramas and read manga. Before, I was utterly certain that I would take up Spanish this summer (because I really want to be able to read Marquez, or Neruda, or Fuentes, etc, in that language). Although Nihonggo was my first love, I was able to put it aside in my mind for a while because of the strong influence literature has imparted on me (I am a huge fan of Latin-American lit). But, as you might have guessed, that plan has changed. This summer, I will take up Japanese from the UP Department of Linguistics. In fact, it has been a massive motivation for me to study for physics during the vacation. 

Why?

Learning the Japanese language opens a lot of opportunities, that not need be said. Not only will it cater to my intense addiction to anime, manga, and Jdrama, it can be the way for me to pursue one of my dreams: to study in Japan. Whenever I would take a break from studying, I would visit the website of Tokyo University . . . And all of a sudden, I would feel very giddy. Of course, I doubt I will be studying to such a prestigious school, but goodness, as long as it's in Japan, I'm content. It could be an exchange student program (albeit I don't really think someone like me will be chosen), or perhaps my masters. To be able to fulfill this yume though, the first step is to learn the language. Every year, I will formally study Nihonggo until I have exhausted the extramural classes from the Department of Linguistics. I would practice by listening to Japanese music (which I already do), and by watching anime or drama. I really, really want to watch a series in Japanese dub! That would be amazing.

Aside from that, one thing to further my fangirling is to watch anime frequently, or to read manga. I have copied numerous series from my brother and I would really try to slip in some time to watch an episode or two before I sleep. Currently, I am watching Kuroko no Basuke; yes, I know, I'm such a failure for only watching it now, but I was completely behind being an otaku last year, as you are aware of. It's a very good thing to motivate me to study, because, at the end of the day, despite all the hardship and my effort, I know I will have something great to look forward to.