August 18th, 2005
I am Infuriated
I need a new computer, another line of work, a car, and more ice cream. One near-death encounter and another one pending in the future (how the fuck I am supposed to survive writing an irreverent article concerning five Metro Manila mayors, I do not know) hasn't changed the way I view, and live, my life; wasn't enough, apparently, although I appreciate the cosmic gesture and will probably apply the lessons learned sometime after a good night's sleep with nothing to worry about.
I could say that I'm not as content as I should be. But school's driving me nuts, parents even nuttier, money and the lack thereof into pieces. I've a neighbor who's made a job out of a hobby - photography is what it is - and he makes more money in a shoot than I do after writing 2000 words. He's just bought a car, owns a miniaturized iBook, and I can't even get my computer fixed. It's insulting; why do these photographers get paid for the trouble of fixing up a shoot and getting people to pose for them, and writers get nothing more than a thank-you for the effort of writing.
Maybe I should start charging more for my works; say, ten pesos per word. I can't understand the logic behind the theory of how a picture can say a thousand words, but maybe the truth lies behind the capacity of the human mind to ingest and understand words. Photos are eye candy, something you look at and understand at your own pace, whereas words aren't that simple. You have to qualify the words against their initial meanings, their function in the sentence and the eventual paragraph, and then evaluate for yourself just how manifest that logic is in your own experience. But artists and photographers argue the same thing for pictures, so why is it that the writer is forever the marginalized artist?
It's funny how all of the most brilliant present-day writers in the country are in the academe, or basking in the semblance of such: it has been overheard that writers must teach in order to survive. Of course, others are editors, racketeers. I believe myself to be in that criteria, since I forever despair of actually finding the patience to pull a degree from the academic hat. My chances as an editor or at the very least, a desk writer, are probably better.
But my almighty D is missing.
I have begun to think that maybe I'm in the wrong craft. Maybe all the writing I'm doing is balderdash.
I could say that I'm not as content as I should be. But school's driving me nuts, parents even nuttier, money and the lack thereof into pieces. I've a neighbor who's made a job out of a hobby - photography is what it is - and he makes more money in a shoot than I do after writing 2000 words. He's just bought a car, owns a miniaturized iBook, and I can't even get my computer fixed. It's insulting; why do these photographers get paid for the trouble of fixing up a shoot and getting people to pose for them, and writers get nothing more than a thank-you for the effort of writing.
Maybe I should start charging more for my works; say, ten pesos per word. I can't understand the logic behind the theory of how a picture can say a thousand words, but maybe the truth lies behind the capacity of the human mind to ingest and understand words. Photos are eye candy, something you look at and understand at your own pace, whereas words aren't that simple. You have to qualify the words against their initial meanings, their function in the sentence and the eventual paragraph, and then evaluate for yourself just how manifest that logic is in your own experience. But artists and photographers argue the same thing for pictures, so why is it that the writer is forever the marginalized artist?
It's funny how all of the most brilliant present-day writers in the country are in the academe, or basking in the semblance of such: it has been overheard that writers must teach in order to survive. Of course, others are editors, racketeers. I believe myself to be in that criteria, since I forever despair of actually finding the patience to pull a degree from the academic hat. My chances as an editor or at the very least, a desk writer, are probably better.
But my almighty D is missing.
I have begun to think that maybe I'm in the wrong craft. Maybe all the writing I'm doing is balderdash.