Friday, July 27, 2012

The Dark Knight Rises

Last Friday I hurried out of work at around 1pm, and ran to the cinema to watch The Dark Knight Rises! I could have watched on the opening day the previous day, but I realized I haven't seen The Amazing Spiderman. So just for completion I had to watch Spidey instead. I am one of those people who think that it's too soon to have another Spiderman movie, because although the third one tanked, it wasn't nearly as horrendous as, say, Batman and Robin. When Batman Begins was released in 2005 it didn't feel "too soon" just after 8 years since Batman and Robin, because we were in a hurry to forget the nipples and the plastic lips that protected Chris O Donnel from Poison Ivy's pheromonic kiss.

I did not like The Amazing Spiderman at all. I remember leaving the theater after Spiderman and Spiderman 2 genuinely awed and in good spirits because they were really fun without being campy. The angst and humorlessness of this version of Spidey just overwhelmed the entire movie, and Andrew Garfield's shaking head was kind of distracting. Maybe the sequel would be better, but for now, I still think they should have just made another superhero movie starring Garfield. Maybe a Daredevil reboot, I think he could play a good Daredevil with that level of angstiness. Except that movie would make it difficult for him to showcase his pretty humongous eyes.

Now The Dark Knight Rises. Spoilers here, of course, if anybody cares. Now that is a great superhero movie. Watch it back to back with the first two parts and we have one cohesive trilogy with a huge magnificent ending. I'm not sure why, but I kinda got all misty and actually teared up during the last few sequences. I would have probably lost it altogether if it was revealed that John Blake's real name was Dick Grayson after all, so good thing he was just a new, invented character. The final scenes were precious, and the tension just didn't let up. "Ayan, montage na," the nerdy college student beside me quipped.

My only real complaints: not enough Batman, as if the supporting cast were all trying to hog the limelight. And also, those sunglasses that sorta look like cat ears just don't cut it--we want a full-on Selina Kyle Catwoman, who cries MEOW and plays with her pet cat. And also, the first screen caps of the TDKR filming years ago showed Talia in costume and aptly identified her as Talia, so the supposed twist was quelled early on. But STILL, this movie is a big triumph for me. I regret that my father is no longer here to watch it with me. Or maybe he is.

Minimum Requirement

One year ago Smoketh, all distressed and visibly shaken at the misfortunes of being a hellow, has asked me how I manage to stay chill. I told her the secret: Just don't do your best.

Your best, as well as not doing it, are obviously subjective, as it might seem to others like you are making karir to the highest degree your job when in fact you're just doing it in the kebsest of manner, so there's a level of trickiness there. Furthermore, being in the business/job/field that involves saving lives and such, not doing your best might seem dangerous because it might seem to others that you don't care whether your patients die. We are all adults so we probably understand that I don't mean letting your patients die, in fact I don't think anybody cares enough to nitpick that statement anyway, but just to elucidate, I had told Smoketh that what I really mean is that to keep on maintaining one's cool in the hurly burly of things, the way to go is to just do the minimum requirement. Doing extra work is like, to quote that old quote, getting a huge rock and making it pukol on your own ulo. We vomit at extracurricular activities! We puke at volunteering for administrative work for self-fulfillment! We just snicker at the thought of doing extra research not required for graduation! We sneer at people making kandarapa for extra work that requires extra effort and steals extra time away from reading comic books and sleeping! Actually we don't sneer at those people, we love them and we cherish them without judgment, because they maintain the status quo and we avoid getting noticed.

In one of our masters class yesterday we answered a questionnaire that assessed our learning motivation. I was classified as goal-oriented, as opposed to being group-oriented or learning-oriented. The description of being goal-oriented in the questionnaire is very sophisticated and a little bit psychoanalytic, but what it really boils down to is that one who is goal-oriented has this mantra in his head while performing a required task: para tapos na. Gawin na lang para tapos na, isulat na ang paper para tapos na, isubmit na ang dapat isubmit para tapos na at maka-graduate na at makapag-practice na at tumanda na at mag-retire na.

Minimum requirement rules. 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Hilakbot

Decades ago in the midst of long-hours of brown outs I would sneak out our katulong's local comic books and read them with fervor in between my father's Superman and Legion of Superheroes. One such komiks was Kilabot comics. It was not scary at all, but it was quite raunchy, with lots of sex scenes. I can still remember the distinct weird smell of the paper, like wet basahan. In one story in Kilabot this family lives in a haunted house, and of course one by one the members are killed off by the evil spirit and such. The aunt is ordered to dance dance dance endlessly, until she dies from exhaustion. Of course she has to dance nude.

Two of the most commonly used terms in the damn komiks series are: "naaagnas", because something is always rotting, usually someone's face, and "hilakbot", because it's hard to draw characters' facial expressions so they are just described in the narrations as nahihilakbot. I am reminded of this particular hilakbot term last night when, as i entered my room at 11:30 pm, when what should I see but.... eight cockroaches crawling around, some with fluttering wings on the verge of flying! EEEEEEEEEP I yelped. There is no other way to describe it, I was really nahilakbot. This has happened before, back in June 2008, when, as I was listening to Alanis's recently released Flavors of Entanglement, twenty-four--I counted them--twenty four roaches just crawled in my room from nowhere. This is properly documented in my blog in.... Friendster! AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

But this time I was prepared. I nimbly reached for my can of Baygon and sprayed--SPRAYED!--at the disgusting vermin. I stepped on the bed, jumped, and sprayed at the ones crawling high on the walls. They didn't immediately die, but they fell, fell, and writhed in agony. More roaches came in! I cartwheeled and sprayed in 360 degrees and hit more roaches fluttering around. Die you motherfuckers, I was thinking. After a few more minutes I was gasping, both from exhaustion and the suffocating smell of Baygon. In a few more seconds I would writhe with the roaches on the floor, so I dashed out and ate sushi.

I then went back to the room and swept out the damn roaches.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

JM

Occasionally I make kulit my patients i haven't seen for a while and text them a generic text that it would be better if they could follow up and such. I went through my patient directory and then realized: patient A- dead. Patient Al- dead. Patient At- dead. Patient B- dead. Patient C- dead. Patient De- dead. Dead dead dead. DEAD! I winced and cringed and felt dreadful and stopped. Wag na lang. I resumed reading Avengers vs X-men.