aquamarine starts

While blogs serve usually as a medium for showcasing works of creativity (sorry for the functionalist tone), I am utilizing this one as a site for therapy. Years of trying to practice an academic tone in anthropological writing sure has put the creative writer (this can be contested, of course) in me to a halt. A teacher has told me, through the infiltrating cigarette smoke he was creating one afternoon, that it is highly possible to write academic papers albeit one’s inclination is creative writing. Another professor, a non-smoker this time, substantiated that statement, saying that the creative writing bias can be an edge because description is essential in ethnographic writing. But I really can’t put it to work. If the two cases were elements placed at the end of a continuum, I would say that it’s hard to be in between. Although some insisted that I don’t have to take things in a dichotomy, I felt like there’s a need to, especially after the 50-page disaster I wrote last summer also known as manuscript. It was hard to get over with. I needed to find my place in anthropology and that required my effort to write in the academic tone.

 

Except for some journal entries that ranged from rants or raves on the university life to conversations with the guy I often sat next to in the jeepney, what mostly came out of my pen were 1) notes of comparison between theories on the social lives of things and biographical objects 2) biographical sketches of some park photographers, and 3) my theoretically informed notions regarding the case. My working time often starts right after the Korean soap on prime time television – I don’t know why it keeps me up – and ends when my caffeine-derived energy drains. There even came a point when my parents felt the need to drag me to the doctor to see if I was still okay. I guess I was. I survived that semester. My block mates’ ways of survival varied too. But that can be discussed in another entry. Ü so much for making a great deal out of my newly discovered writing mode.

 

So what brings me back to my old style? I used to think it was dark, cynical, and not to mention, very corny. But these are my roots, and it’s part of this complicated individual known as Ara (to my profs and acquaintances), or Rang2 (to my close friends), or Kett (to my krabby patty), or ter (to my blockmates), or mangkukulam (to my little brother), or best friend (to a lot of people). And after a long time of pondering upon it, it’s about time to celebrate my roots. I’m reminded of Sir Montes, my Comm1 professor. He said he would be glad to have me in his CW class. How would he react if he finds out I’m taking CL instead for my elective? Or what if I accepted his invite back then and really shifted to BAE? Would things be different? Sigh.

 

Never mind. I feel good about my course any way.

 

A few weeks ago, I went to the beach. In the midst of our hectic schedule – deadlines to meet, organizational plans to materialize, professors to consult, papers to pass, and classes to attend – a friend and I managed to sneak away from the intoxicating university life, from the noisy streets of the city, and from the people whose faces we were so sick of seeing. Cheri opted to leave her beau for a while and I was more than willing to skip my MST class for an overnight stay at the beach. I missed sitting on the shore while the waves touch my feet, or sitting on the dock and watching the city lights from afar. Cheri and I took time to escape (from my family and relatives who attended my dad’s birthday) and watched the sunset on the beach – a Very calming view. And as the sun went down, the buildings across the sea started turning its lights on. Then we walked towards the dock and talked about stuff (and as usual, my visual acuity problems gave me a hard time walking on the ruined dock.) – from family updates to love life (which, by the way, I’ve got nothing to share about, so it was Cheri’s story I tried to analyze) to my jokes (yes, I still am not giving up my joke box queen title)Ü We hit the waters early in the morning with my cousin. The experience was just very relaxing. It revived the water baby in me.

 

I just wished I had time to look for my Tori Amos cd and brought it with me to my overnight stay at the beach. Then it would have been a perfect retreat.