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Yesterday I went in to file for residency to the Graduate Studies Office and Sir Emil Flores, my thesis adviser (whom I have neglected - with much guilt and shame on my part) this past academic year.  What was supposed to be a quick exchange of pleasantries and an inking became a a desperate attempt to pick his brain on how I should get on with my life proceed with the progress of my thesis. It has been a year since I passed the language exam, and a year of blankly staring at blinking cursors in establishments with free internet and cheap eats (sometimes not so cheap - an actual sigh right here). I am very much thankful that Marco accompanied me during enrollment - he was able to get more out of Sir Flores than I would have if I interrogated him myself. And the advice I was able to get was indeed precious, but while we were conversing, the three of us, it really soaked in that I was completely lost in my thesis journey. Sure, I've written a few thousand words on a story as flat as  ---

Hmm.. something is hitting me right now. I do -  I think I've realised something. Recently (like the whole year), I have had a lot of trouble getting stories on paper compared to how it was when I was an undergrad/still taking classes, and at this very moment, I realise what's wrong with the way I'm writing: I am auto-censoring myself without my knowledge. 

I'll try something. I'm living a controlled life right now, because being out of control really hasn't gotten me anywhere in the past few years. I should stop being concerned with how my writing reflects how I am. I should just push it - a mental vomiting if you will - with all the fails and corn and wannabee content on the page. After that, I hope I can pick up the good bits and put them together into something worthwhile. 

Let's start with something simple. Right now I'm at a restaurant called Leona's. The full name of the place is Leona's Art Restaurant, and it does look pretty artsy - paintings and vases and sculptures and little tapestries here and there. A coworker of mine said the owner of the place was her daughter's godfather. The reason I went here, despite the lack of funds, is because it's a reasonably peaceful place with free internet, decent food, and non-irritating music (although I am still playing Rainymood through earplugs). I really want to get started with my new and improved thesis, completely rewrite it from the ground up - from fantasy to scifi - and I think I came up with something while having the first few sips of my cream soda (if someone can tell me where I can buy these in Manila, I will be forever thankful).

All the writers and manuals advice the same thing - write what you know, and judging by what i have written so far (see zero), it looks like I don't know much about anything. But maybe it's just because I keep looking at the wrong places, at experiences I don't have but want, at people I don't know. The idea revolves around what I'm doing now at work. Sir Flores told me to formulate a "What if", so I got one bouncing about in my mind, and it's a difficult what if to digest. I tried typing it here but it looked so silly that I need to ponder on it some more, but I do think there is something here. 

My computer has 18 minutes left, and the restaurant doesn't have a three-pronged socket, so I end with remembering that I should begin with a story that TELLS something, before I even think about the story that will DO something to my current environment.
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timoglawin: coloured with Promarkers by Letraset (Default)
Timog Lawin

June 2013

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