May302012

Post-ANWW realizations

Ilang araw na rin mula nang nagpo-post ang mga tao ng kanilang drama tungkol sa 11th Ateneo National Writers Workshop. Gusto ko rin, sa katunayan, dahil napakamakabuluhan din nito para sa akin, kahit na transcriber ako. Gusto ko rin namang magpasalamat sa lahat ng naging bahagi ng palihan; gusto ko ring sabihing mami-miss ko ang mga fellow at iyong mismong karanasan, kahit na masakit ang ilan doon at kahit na may taong nakakasakit nang hindi niya alam (huy, sa body pa dapat ang detalyeng iyan).  Pero noong binabalak kong magpost, parang may pumipigil lagi sa akin. Siguro dahil sariwa pa ang mga alaala. Siguro dahil hindi pa ako noon nakababalik sa karaniwang takbo ng buhay. Siguro dahil hindi pa ako noon nakauuwi (shet, naalala ko na naman iyong tula ni Om).

Ngayon, mukhang kaya ko nang isulat. Simple lang naman ang natanto ko: magbago nang may laging pagbabalik. Para sa pag-ibig. Chos, walang pag-ibig. Matagal ko na kasing problema ang pagiging mayabang, lalo pa’t wala na akong naisusulat at kaunti pa rin lang ang nababasa.

Dalawang pahayag ang tumagos: “bilang kritiko, sige puwede kang magganiyan. Pero manunulat ka rin, matuwa ka naman at may nakagawa ng ganoong klaseng proyekto na higit pa sa iyo.” Iyong isa pa, “ginawa mo na ngang propesyon ang pagsusulat, hindi ka pa rin nakapagsusulat.”

Siyempre, una, mukhang paraphrase na lang ang mga iyan. At pangalawa, pabiro ang mga ito. Pero sakto kasi sa nararamdaman ko buong workshop. Nakatutuwa kasi ang earnestness ng maraming fellows. Kasama rin siyempre ang panelists, pero given na yata iyon at mas tumatak sa akin iyong sa kanila. Ramdam sa mga akda at pahayag nila ang kanilang kagustuhang magsulat. Na may nais silang ipahayag, ilabas, isawika. May ambisyon ang marami sa mga akda nila. May damdamin. Iyon, may damdamin. Iyong damdaming maaari lamang mapasaloob sa isang akda dahil naniniwala ang manunulat na mahalaga, hindi lamang ang kaniyang isinusulat, kundi ang mismong praktika ng pagsusulat. May ilan talaga, pagkatapos kong basahin, tulala ako. Noong tinatalakay na ang mga iyon, napapatigil talaga ako sa pag-transcribe. At hindi dahil sa katamaran. Siguro dahil marami ding akda ang may paksang gustong-gusto ko. Lungsod. Mariang Makiling. Makiling. Pag-uwi. Pananahan. (Pag-ibig.) Pero hindi lang iyon, e. Iyong mga manunulat din. Ramdam mong may pagtataya sila. May sinusugal silang bahagi ng kanilang sarili para sa panulat.

Hindi na kasi ako ganoon. (Teka, ilang beses na bang ganito ang post ko? Iyong tipong may significant human experience tapos nakikita ang kakulangan ng sarili tapos gustong magbago? Hala, paulit-ulit na lang talaga ako, tapos may pagka-self-centered pa ang worldview.) Cynic bastard na tamad. Para sa akin, hindi naman mahalaga iyong mga isinusulat ko; wala naman itong magagawa sa mundo. Hindi ko iniisip ang mambabasa ko; gusto ko lang magsulat ng sa tingin ko ay maganda. Kahit sa mga research ko, wala lang, kung ano lang matripan. Iniisip ko kasi, nasabi na ang mga gusto kong sabihin sa mas maganda pang paraan. At kung mayroong hindi pa nasasabi, kaya naman din iyong sabihin ng iba. Iyong pagsali sa Palanca, pag-submit sa mga binabalak na antolohiya? Para lang hindi matanggal sa trabaho.

Kaya heto ako ngayon, blog na lang ang isinusulat, hindi pa madalas. Pero kailangan ko na ngang tumigil. Sampal sa akin iyong palihan. Kung ano-anong sinasabi ko sa sarili ko. Mula sa baduy na “kaya siya sa iba at hindi sa iyo naiinlab ngayon.” Hanggang sa baduy din namang “may halaga naman ang isinusulat mo.” Kailangan kong bumalik sa dati, noong matatayog pa ang pangarap ko sa akda ko, noong hindi ko pa naiisip na buhay ko lang iyon na nilagyan ng kung ano-anong mahiwaga at metafictional shit. Kailangan ko na ulit tumaya at manindigan. Tama na iyong “ay, ayon naman kay Derrida, pagtatayo ng sentro ang paninindigan.” Palusot ko lang iyon. Shet naman, napakalaking misinterpretasyon kay Derrida. Alam na alam ko namang may mga pakikibaka akong nais ipaglaban ngunit ayaw ko lang harapin. Alam ko naman ang nagpapasilakbo sa kalooban ko. Alam ko kung ano ang mga ideang itinuturing na tahanan ng aking isip. Kailangan ko lang ulit iyon maramdaman. Iyon, e. Damdamin. Rubdog. Libog.

Naalala ko iyong kuwento ng isang fellow tungkol sa kaniyang kapuwa fellow. Nagkuwentuhan daw sila buong magdamag. Tungkol sa panitikan. Sa pagsusulat. At ang sabi niya, maraming angst iyong fellow. Ako, sa isip ko, angst na naman. Pero may hirit siya, “kaya siya magaling, kasi marami siyang angst.” Boom. Siyempre, hindi ko alam kung anong klaseng angst iyon dahil hindi detalyado iyong kuwento. Hindi tsismosa iyong fellow, e. Pero muli, dahil self-centered bitch ako, ginamit ko na naman para sa self-actualization ko iyong kuwento at nilagyan ng sariling interpretasyon.

Nagkaka-angst kasi sa pagsusulat dahil may pinaghuhugutang malalim iyong manunulat. Nagagalit siya sa pinakamaliliit na detalyeng hindi niya maisulat. Naiirita sa poetika ng iba. Hindi makatulog dahil binabagabag ng isang imahen. Gustong wasakin ang mundo dahil hindi ito naaayon sa nahaharaya niya. Lahat ng ito ay dahil mahalaga sa kaniya ang sining, ang kaniyang sining.

At dahil gutom na ako at may manlilibre ng KFC, titigil na ako. Iyong mayabang part: iyon lang, tumigil na sa pagmamayabang. Ang pangit tingnan. Hindi nakakainlab. Chos. Hindi tama, lalo pa’t kapuwa manunulat din iyong nilalait ko at alam kong parehas kaming nahihirapan sa larang na ito. Babalik ako sa dating ambisyoso at earnest na sarili, ngunit hindi na iyong mayabang. Iyon na iyon. Kainis. Hindi ko nga nabanggit iyong taong nakakasakit sa akin. Paano nga ba gumawa ng CNF? Maka-sit-in nga sa isang workshop class.

ANWW 

May282012

Malungkot ako. Umuulan. Pathetic fallacy, hindi organic unity. Sarap sapakin ng uniberso.
May182012
ikenbot: How The Brain Turns Reality Into Dreams Dreams make perfect sense when you’re having them. Yet, they leave you befuddled the next morning, wondering “where did that come from?” The answer may lie in the dreams of people with amnesia, researchers report in an issue of Science. Much of the fodder for our dreams comes from recent experiences. For this reason, scientists have tentatively supposed that the dreaming brain draws from its “declarative memory” system, which includes newly learned information. The declarative memory stores information that you can “declare” you know, such as the square root of nine, or the name of your dog. Often, you can even remember when or where you learned something - for example, the day you discovered the harsh truth about Santa Claus. That’s called episodic memory. People who permanently suffer from amnesia can’t add new declarative or episodic memories. The parts of their brains involved in storing this type of information, primarily a region called the hippocampus, have been damaged. Although amnesiacs can retain new information temporarily, they generally forget it a few minutes later. If our dreams come from declarative memories, people with amnesia shouldn’t dream at all, or at least dream differently than others do. But new research directed by Robert Stickgold of Harvard Medical School suggests quite the opposite. Just like people with normal memory, amnesiacs replay recent experiences when they fall asleep, Stickgold’s study shows. The only difference seems to be that the amnesiacs don’t recognize what they’re dreaming about. Dreaming of Tetris Every day, the people in the study played several hours of the computer game Tetris, which requires directing falling blocks into the correct positions as they reach the bottom of the screen. At night, the amnesiacs didn’t remember playing the game. But, they did describe seeing falling, rotating blocks while they were falling asleep. A second group of players with normal memories reported seeing the same images. Therefore, Stickgold’s research team concluded, dreams must come from the types of memory amnesiacs do have, which are called “implicit memories.” These are memories that scientists can measure even when individuals don’t know that they have them. One class of implicit memories is found in the procedural memory system, which stores information that you use without really being able to say how you know what you’re doing. When you ride a bicycle for the first time in years, or type on a keyboard without looking, you’re relying on procedural memory. Another type of implicit memory uses “semantic” knowledge, and resides in different parts of the brain, including a region called the neocortex. Semantic knowledge involves general, abstract concepts. Both groups of Tetris players, for example, only described seeing blocks, falling and rotating, and evidently did not see a desk, room, or computer screen, or feel their fingers on the keyboard. Without help from the hippocampus, new semantic memories are too weak to be intentionally recalled. But they can still affect your behavior - for example, causing you to buy a certain brand of something you saw in an advertisement you don’t remember. In contrast, the information in episodic memories is associated with specific times, places or events. Without these “anchors” to reality, it’s no wonder that dreams are so illogical and full of discontinuity, the study’s authors say. Stickgold believes that dreams serve a purpose for the brain, allowing it to make necessary emotional connections among new pieces of information. “Dreams let you consolidate and integrate your experiences, without conflict with other input from real life,” Stickgold said. “Dreaming is like saying, ‘I’m going home, disconnecting the phone, nobody talk to me. I have to do work.’” Because the hippocampus seems to be inaccessible for this “off-line” memory processing, the brain may use the abstract information in the neocortex instead. According to Stickgold’s theory, dreaming is like choosing an outfit by reaching into bins labeled “shirts,” “pants” and so on. You’ll rummage up something to wear, but it won’t be a perfectly matching ensemble. Full Article.. © 2012 American Association for the Advancement of Science Click here for more information on Dreams

ikenbot:

How The Brain Turns Reality Into Dreams

Dreams make perfect sense when you’re having them. Yet, they leave you befuddled the next morning, wondering “where did that come from?” The answer may lie in the dreams of people with amnesia, researchers report in an issue of Science.

Much of the fodder for our dreams comes from recent experiences. For this reason, scientists have tentatively supposed that the dreaming brain draws from its “declarative memory” system, which includes newly learned information.

The declarative memory stores information that you can “declare” you know, such as the square root of nine, or the name of your dog. Often, you can even remember when or where you learned something - for example, the day you discovered the harsh truth about Santa Claus. That’s called episodic memory.

People who permanently suffer from amnesia can’t add new declarative or episodic memories. The parts of their brains involved in storing this type of information, primarily a region called the hippocampus, have been damaged. Although amnesiacs can retain new information temporarily, they generally forget it a few minutes later.

If our dreams come from declarative memories, people with amnesia shouldn’t dream at all, or at least dream differently than others do. But new research directed by Robert Stickgold of Harvard Medical School suggests quite the opposite. Just like people with normal memory, amnesiacs replay recent experiences when they fall asleep, Stickgold’s study shows. The only difference seems to be that the amnesiacs don’t recognize what they’re dreaming about.

Dreaming of Tetris

Every day, the people in the study played several hours of the computer game Tetris, which requires directing falling blocks into the correct positions as they reach the bottom of the screen. At night, the amnesiacs didn’t remember playing the game. But, they did describe seeing falling, rotating blocks while they were falling asleep.

A second group of players with normal memories reported seeing the same images. Therefore, Stickgold’s research team concluded, dreams must come from the types of memory amnesiacs do have, which are called “implicit memories.” These are memories that scientists can measure even when individuals don’t know that they have them.

One class of implicit memories is found in the procedural memory system, which stores information that you use without really being able to say how you know what you’re doing. When you ride a bicycle for the first time in years, or type on a keyboard without looking, you’re relying on procedural memory.

Another type of implicit memory uses “semantic” knowledge, and resides in different parts of the brain, including a region called the neocortex. Semantic knowledge involves general, abstract concepts. Both groups of Tetris players, for example, only described seeing blocks, falling and rotating, and evidently did not see a desk, room, or computer screen, or feel their fingers on the keyboard.

Without help from the hippocampus, new semantic memories are too weak to be intentionally recalled. But they can still affect your behavior - for example, causing you to buy a certain brand of something you saw in an advertisement you don’t remember.

In contrast, the information in episodic memories is associated with specific times, places or events. Without these “anchors” to reality, it’s no wonder that dreams are so illogical and full of discontinuity, the study’s authors say.

Stickgold believes that dreams serve a purpose for the brain, allowing it to make necessary emotional connections among new pieces of information. “Dreams let you consolidate and integrate your experiences, without conflict with other input from real life,” Stickgold said. “Dreaming is like saying, ‘I’m going home, disconnecting the phone, nobody talk to me. I have to do work.’”

Because the hippocampus seems to be inaccessible for this “off-line” memory processing, the brain may use the abstract information in the neocortex instead. According to Stickgold’s theory, dreaming is like choosing an outfit by reaching into bins labeled “shirts,” “pants” and so on. You’ll rummage up something to wear, but it won’t be a perfectly matching ensemble.

Full Article..

© 2012 American Association for the Advancement of Science

Click here for more information on Dreams
7AM

(Source: yeahwriters)
7AM
“We’ve had our meeting, we’ve decided what we’re doing and how we’re going to approach it, and I think we’ve got a climax to the next series that will have people just as frustrated as they ever were.”

Steven Moffat promises a puzzling climax to Sherlock’s third series

(via the-visual)

(via bbcsherlockftw)
May172012

bookspaperscissors:

• The Unspeakable
• Empathy
• Entering
• Remedy

Agnes Toth


Angkinin muli natin ang ating katawan
mula sa mga larawan, pira-pirasuhin
ang ingay ng kulay at muling huminga
sa loob ng bitak-bitak na katahimikan

pseudo-ekphrasis 

5AM

architizer:

Layered photographs by Makoto Sasaki explore the density and motion of urban life in Tokyo - all of the images were created without digital manipulation - they were the product of the accumulated movements and exposures of the camera itself.

Via: DesignBoom
5AM
“I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.” Pablo Neruda, from “Every Day You Play”, in Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, trans. W.S. Merwin (via the-final-sentence)
5AM
bookspaperscissors: Turbulence of Time, Agita Keiri

bookspaperscissors:

Turbulence of Time, Agita Keiri
May162012
“I speak of my body because I’ve lost it. I am a 27-year-old man, one meter seventy-eight centimeters tall. Every morning I look at myself naked in my bathroom mirror and caress my cheeks in anticipation of the daily ceremony: Shave my beard and upper lip, provoke a strong response with Jean-Marie Farina cologne on my face, resign myself to combing black, thick, untamable hair. Close my eyes. Deny to my face and head the central role my death will be certain to give them. Concentrate instead on my body. The trunk that is going to be separated from my head. The body that occupies me from my neck to my extremities, covered in skin the color of pale cinnamon and tipped with nails that will continue to grow for hours and days after death, as if they wanted to scratch at the lid of the coffin and shout I’m here, I’m still alive, you made a mistake when you buried me.” From Destiny and Desire, Carlos Fuentes’s last novel. RIP. (via cmonstah)

(via cmonstah)
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