"baila! baila!"
this year's malate writers' workshop [the 5th annual, to be exact] proved to be more encouraging to my career as a writer than last year's. but then again, last year i submitted a poem i was sure would be too substandard to merit a workshop slot. obviously by now that hypothesis lies in ruins.
the panel this year was composed of [from left to right]: allan popa, paolo manalo, luna sicat [daughter of rogelio sicat], and louie sanchez. by the second day, they had conferred upon me the title of 'junior panelist', probably after i had played grammar police one too many times. i still feel that dandi would have been a better recipient, especially since i made a fool of myself trying to critique a piece i hadn't read yet [mental note: zobelian bullshit techniques don't work in the face of greatness].
as for my own story, the panel spent much time lauding details from it that i didn't consciously intend when i wrote it. sure, i'd be lying if i said i'd rather that they found fault with everything, but this also puts pressure on me to produce a good sophomore story.
and yet i can easily picture myself a year or five from now teaching here at dlsu, writing game source or music* or literature** during my free time. not one of the panelists advised going into the academe, but i think i'd enjoy a job where i don't have to think at all. that way i can maximize mental focus on my 'non-essential' essentials.
(here's a map of my future, a la lj-cut)random thought number one:
this year, cresta monte almost claimed a wallet, a cellphone, and my second habitat sweater. yot plans to haunt the pabellon flamingo after she dies. now that's not a bad idea.
random thought number two [something for the goose]:
miko's eyes told me
don't
hurt me please.random thought number three:
"life is like a rosary - it's full of mystery!"
sige ingat.ΓΌ
music: renz is half-intending to stick around as well. if all goes as speculated, we will become the next bart(s).
literature: by that time, malate will be publishing me at least once a year. no, this isn't pride; this is conviction.