Blabber this, blabber that. What is a jobless one to do these days? He watches soap.
I am loving the new season of Grey's anatomy. The cast has trimmed down. Addison moved to L.A., in her own spin off series. Burke left Seattle Grace, and the actor behind him was fired from the show. He could still get back. This Cristina angst arc is not that final in tone. Negotiations could open up and get Burke back. Not that I care, except that Derek compared to Burke paints Derek to be the sensitive type, and our attention is diverted into comparing the parallel couples' lives in the show: the Meredith-Derek/ Cristina-Preston tandems. But let the record show that I like Izzy. Must be the hair. :D
Oh, and Meredith is having guilt problems with her half-sister, who will probably find out later that Meredith is part of those who sort of misdiagnosed her Dad's second wife. The only child, as Meredith calls herself now, is having a crash course in past tense sibling rivalry ("We don't have the same dad. Mine left me when I was five years old. Does that sound like your dad to you?" she asked her half-sister.). She is also keeping an arm's length relationship with Derek, because Cristina didn't get her happy ending, so how could she end up wit hers? Right? So Meredith and Derek are now having S and M. Sex and Mockery.
House. I am having trouble downloading episode two season four of House, where the old crew of Chase, Cameron, and Foreman is shown as getting on with their lives; and House is forked between admitting he missed them and wanting to not need them again. Good way to bring novelty into the series. Good scriptwriters, these two shows have: Grey's and House. Hmmm. Reminds me, House said in one episode, "So, you think Grey's anatomy was wrong?" He was alluding to both that medical book, Gray's Anatomy, and the series, "Grey's Anatomy." Nice one there. I am waiting for Grey's to poke f[p]un at House. Meredith could welcome her interns into her home, and exclaim, "Welcome to the house of Grey!" Oh I miss Cameron's moral naiveté, and the indignant looks she swings at her boss. Lovely. She has an eight-year old for a boss who can't admit to himself that he, too, has a romantic (in the chivalrous sense) motive for saving (not all, but) some patients. Download House. Download House. That's my mantra for today.
Har har. By tomorrow it will have been a full week since I quit my nightshift web content writer job at Ortigas. Been sleeping at nights now. I am eating more and sleeping more and I feel slow and bloated even though I am still pencil-thin. Day schedule living allows more time to eat, and more time to dawdle. I am cleaning the house while I stuff more paragraphs into short stories I am sending to some contest whose deadline ends when this month ends. Actually, I think I can only send one. By working on two I increase my chances of, during the writing, feeling which I want to devote time to.
One story is set in an abbey, a la Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose," and that abbey's secret is the cause of the dwindling population of the surrounding fishing villages in a pre-World War I Germany. Lots of misty, cold mornings. Lots of pitch black nights. I wish I could speak German, or write just a few lines. I'd like to invest more in building a tense atmosphere, so I'm slowing down the narrative. And I'm rereading Eco's novel, to get a layout of that Abbey, how one shivers after waking up hours before the rise of the sun, so I could render how helpless the townsfolk feel when a winged figure swoops down to snatch their babies. Could the abbey be hiding a monster in their midst?
The other story follows three days in the life of a Philosophy major during the final week of one semester of his life. He is reviewing for his exams. His roommate is preparing to go back to his home town for the sem break, having finished his exams early. Left alone in an old boarding house in a quiet, semi deserted street, our Philosophy major finds himself talking to his roommate again, who, he remembers seeing walking out the door. So who is he talking to?
Hah. Better get back to cleaning the house. Stuffing paragraphs. And overfeeding the cats. I really shouldn't eat this much food. My wife is back to her cooking since moving to day sched as well, and we suddenly find ourselves having too much food. Of course, for my cats, there is no such thing as too much.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Subscribe Feed (RSS)
9 comments:
what would our lives be without tv?
i'm not really a big Grey's fan, i would have loved to follow House, i'm always intrigued by Scrubs, ER still airs, and there seems to be no end in sight for General Hospital yet. what's all these hospital drama? and, by the way, where's Chicago Hope?
there must be a reason behind the insurgence of medical drama (long ago we flocked around legal drama; sorry, ally mcbeal, late have i known you).
oh i loved ally. especially when robert downey jr. came on board, and pit his wild weird wits against ally's.
i don't know. maybe this medical drama bandwagon will calm down and leave us with raised eyebrows: why were we crazy about them again?
a friend's girlfriend is loaning me all five seasons of Scrubs. so i'm going to love that, too. house, i finally got the second and third episodes to queue up and download them. you will love house.
you will love house. because sarcasm is king. :D
yes, i do love the few episodes i was able to catch. but i do adore mr. hugh laurie himself beyond the role. remember his golden globe speech? he is irrepresible dry wit!
by the way, both your stories incidentally strike chords in me: my childhood was peppered with stories of winged creatures swooping down to grab unborn children (which speaks volumes to me now because i happen to be carrying an unborn child). then i also graduated philosophy, which means i know how it feels studying for philo finals and the strange hair-at-the-back-of-your-neck-raising incidents in the middle of sleepless nights as kant's and descartes' thoughts unfold before my very eyes.
ah, i had forgotten that you're also a philosophy major, like me. i had monopolized this one book, newly arrived at the library, at the time, about a fiction approach to teaching philosophy. it had a story of a student dreaming of waking up in a dream, and waking up to a reality where the ground split beneath his feet, offering nothing.
people won't believe it, when we tell them, that philosophy can be scary. there's this one teacher i loved, he's now dean of my college, who babysat us newbies in metaphysics. consciousness of, say, a chair, he said, takes time to be processed and filtered by the brain, so that what we see and touch as wood and metal is half-memory. the scary thing, he said, which made us uneasy in our chairs, is that, are there chairs at all?
(insert twilight zone music here.)
aha, there it is again! the classic "chairness of the chair" in metaphysics. that was disturbing to me too, the increased awareness of everything around you. the Chair is a particularly close being to me because that was the first thing our german professor let us determine the essence of (to make the long story short). and that made mush of my ignorant consciousness.
by fiction approach of teaching philosophy, do you mean the likes of "sophie's world" and this new novel in the bookstores, i forgot the title but i think it's "a story of philosophy"?
if you mean WIll Durant's "Story of Philosophy," that's a little to old to be new. maybe you refer to a newer book, one i've never seen or heard of. the fiction approach to Philosophy i mentioned had topics as starting points, and then stories to "illustrate" or set the mood, followed by questions that were more in the mood of a fiction workshop that a philo discussion. yeah yeah my analytic philo teachers would sneer at it, but then i was a hybrid back in undergrad: instead of arguments, i wrote narratives. :D
no, i don't mean will durant's story of philosophy. it's a new one, sophie's world-type of fiction.
i also wrote narratives for my course integration project. i found my thoughts easier to explain that way. as we say in aesthetics, language is never commensurate to the truth, thus the need for poetry...
ah, poetry... i so suck at poetry.
not exactly poetry as in metric verses, etc. poetic language, as used in prose to evoke feelings.
Post a Comment