On Emilie Autumn

Last night, I discovered a YouTuber who is severely disenchanted with Emilie Autumn for quite a few good reasons (though I admit she has several misses herself). Though I'm glad there's another fan (she still likes Emilie Autumn, the same way I like Evanescence but not Amy (not anymore)) who is brave enough to say that Emilie Autumn can't sing. There are only a couple of songs where she doesn't go off key or over-the-top.

Still, I like what she stands for, and even though this other fan is quick to point out inconsistencies of Autumn's statements (and calling her a liar at one point), somehow I still want to believe that Autumn is a strong, intelligent, and talented person who represents Wild Woman: intuitive, sexy, and vicious when she has to be. Though she definitely goes out of line once in a while.

However, I admit I'm having second thoughts about her that I might not get my fictional characters to be fans of hers. But that's just a thought. After all, I remain an Evanescence fan while I can go out of my way to call Amy Lee a poseur.

Six and a Half Years Ago ...

Whenever I hear this song or see the video, I see my first few days alone in the dorm, June 2005. I remember the awful feeling of being left completely alone as my parents said goodbye and closed the dorm's door. I was alone, several miles from home. Feeling sad then was rather odd, considering I had been looking forward to a taste of independence, whatever that meant. I wondered what my classmates would be like. I felt scared. I hadn't expected to make it this far. Only six months earlier, I had been wondering if I would live to see college.


I remember sitting on the newly waxed floor of my dorm bedroom, listening to the noises outside. Even as I looked into the afternoon light from the window, all I saw was a gaping void, pretty much like an empty page nobody could ever fill.


My iPod Shuffle was becoming faulty, but I didn't mind. I listened to this song to give myself hope that maybe something was here for me. I was going to do what I want. Perhaps what made this song special is because it somehow gave me hope - that somehow, if I held on, I just might get what I've always wanted. And I did. I learned again what it was like to be happy and to see others happy because you are happy. For the first time in 17 years, I felt real companionship, to have others love me and respect me and never look at my cankles and funny gait and wonder if I'm not quite normal.


I listen to this song now, and I feel hot around the ears. I feel the heavy air in the University Belt and see the chaotic roads with its drivers and fare collectors calling for nervoous students that have become heedless of the smog and muck staining their pressed uniforms brown by the pre-semestral exams. I remember dodging pesky beggar kids who think they can demand for money or a meal when my tuition takes several years of my parents' jobs. I remember entering the UST Museum and feel like I'm in Heaven.

I remember racing for the LRT on the way to Buendia's Batangas-bound buses and back. The air was hot and humid even at twilight. Yet I enjoyed watching people pass by the train. I remember wondering what they are like - what they do, what they love, what they live for. There are so many people in such a big city, and plenty more in the surrounding provinces. Yet nearly all of them are insignificant to me; and I knew I was insignificant to nearly all of them, too. They look at me having no idea that I spoke and sang at the age of two and recited numbers 1-10 in English, Tagalog, and Spanish. They look at me not knowing I was member of my school's Gifted and Talented Educational Program where I skipped a lot of sessions out of sheer lack of motivation because of constant bullying.

Yet I still found joy in reading poems posted on the LRT's interiors and at the same time sorrow and guilt and frustration that I missed out on a lot of opportunities. I write well, but I write mediocre poetry; I attempt at sonnets never knowing how good I am. My prose is good, obviously; my fiction is even better. Call me a megalomaniac frustrated poet, but even now, I feel like I could have done better. Yet I know that being 'the best I can be' was virtually impossible under the circumstances, considering my personality and all I've been through.

But even through all that, I look back in wonder and think, wow! It's been six years since? Almost seven? This was what I hadn't imagined before: that I would still be alive and actually happy.

I look at my writing and tell myself I have so much to offer. Then, I listen to Stonefree's "Sayang" and convince myself that yes, my life is too good to waste.

rock of ages

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What Would Edward Do?

I remember telling myself that I would finally stop ranting about Twilight. For a while, I have ceased talking about it, although I have entertained hateful thoughts about it from time to time. Also after finally reading all four books and the spinoff novella in PDF and the first three movies, I have also decided that the Twilight series is not worth the attention it is getting. When it comes to the hatedom, however, I believe that it is necessary to promote understanding as to why Twilight is what I and countless others like me think it is.

Perhaps what contributed to my recent silence toward the series is that I have been busy writing a couple of pieces of fan fiction set seven years after the series finale, with my favorite character, Leah Clearwater in the lead. Time and again, I have expressed through my stories my own interpretation of the characters particularly those I dislike, like Bella Swan, Edward Cullen and Sam Uley. Hell, I have even criticized otherwise likeable Dr. Carlisle Cullen, blaming him along with Bella for any unnecessary and pointless conflict in the series and their tragic outcomes. I am referring in particular to the death of poor Bree Tanner, who was executed by the Volturi just for being involved; she hasn’t done anything, not even stepping foot into the actual battlefield. I am also talking about the dozens of innocent people who were either turned into vampires and then killed or killed by these vampires as their meal.

Anybody who has read Twilight or the movie adaptations tend to blame Victoria for the unnecessary tragedy. But I blame Bella nonetheless. If she hadn’t been there on that fateful baseball game, James wouldn’t have run after her; Edward wouldn’t have killed him, driving Victoria on a vengeful rampage. I would even say that Victoria was a brave woman to have gone through the trouble of risking tipping off the Volturi just to kill one puny human with unnecessary protection, but that’s for another essay.

What concerns me now is an entirely different matter. Last year, I wrote a blog entry bemoaning the lack of appropriate conclusion for Leah Clearwater. I wrote a piece of fan fiction to appease my grief over the injustice of it all. Then, to see if the happy ending does not falter, I wrote a sequel set eight years after the ending of the first one; I suggest you read it here before you continue reading.

The plot concluded the way I wanted and the way it would naturally flow according to the circumstances. So far, I’ve only had two reviews. One is pleased with the ending, and another is not. The latter said: “Was a asome plot and story up till the last chapter. I hated it not that Im a bella and Edward lover but It really was off of character that stephine meyers made them to be. yeah Edward is real pain when it comes to protecting his family but I don't think he would be that way. Like Said great story up to last chapter.”

If you have read the story, you would see that I somehow made all characters as close to the canon as possible. But as a fan fiction writer, I believe it is also my duty to incorporate some of my interpretation into the story and into the characters. If you would check the author’s profile page, I made it clear that I am not a fan of Twilight, and I don’t share the fans’views about it. However, my general opinion of the books is mostly irrelevant here; the matter on hand is the character of Edward Cullen.

Edward has always struck me as an arrogant, devious and intrusive stalker who resorts to deceit and emotional manipulation to get what he wants. I think that, even in his few moments of genuine affection, he gets carried away by his own emotions because of his stunted maturity. He has no reason to love Bella, much less a reason to hate Jacob or his wolf-brothers (and sister). And even if I believe he does, Edward doesn’t give me a reason to care. The primary reason I don’t care for anything he thinks or says or does is because I blame him and Bella (and to a lesser extent, Carlisle Cullen) for anything that ever happens in the series; in fact, I root for Victoria for wanting to kill the little bone-bag and going through the trouble of making a newborn army just to kill someone who doesn’t deserve my sympathy.

If a heartbroken vampire is an unstoppable destructive force, isn’t Victoria only acting upon her own instinct and emotion suitable to that of a true vampire? And James, he wouldn’t have died if Bella wasn’t even in the secret baseball field with the damn Cullen family!

Okay, let’s think of it this way: if Bella did die, wouldn’t Edward be pissed and go on a quest to kill Victoria? If he is the protagonist, you would have rooted for him, right? Well, the same thing happened to Victoria; why would you still root for Edward and not her? What is it about Bella that she is so important?—that she is his “true love”? WHY is she his true love? That’s what I don’t understand! And I don’t need anybody to tell me to understand anymore. I’ve read all four books and the pointless spinoff novella. I’ve seen the three movies, and I am willing to see the next two. The series is ending, and nothing is there that could show me why I should care that Edward and Bella should be together.

In fact, I don’t think they deserve a happy ending. Leah Clearwater does because her life sucks, and she doesn’t deserve to feel hurt. Feel free to read my blog entry here to see why.

Now, as I have stated, Edward is a selfish, overbearing jerk with no contribution to society and therefore does not deserve to exist. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. There are many other characters—well-written characters of any given alignment—that have little or no contribution to their society. And that’s barely even the problem; my issue with Edward is that he doesn’t have a reason for me to care about him. His fangirls might try, but so far, anything important or ‘good’ I’ve heard about him are the shallow stuff: that he’s affectionate, “protective” and “devoted” to the point of being annoying but it’s okay because he’s hot and his heart is in the right place so he practically can do no wrong.

Except that he does get carried away by his passionate and fiery temperance and even those who love him (fellow characters or real-world fangirls) admit that he does make silly decisions or thoughts. So now we get to my final point: why would he then not act the way he did in the climax of “Wolf People II”? Based on his fans’ interpretation on him, how else would he have handled the fear that the only other supernatural beings closely allied to his family is keeping a secret that one of them is married to what they all consider a true monster? Why would the fans “not think he would be that way”? Under the given conflict and circumstances, what would he have done based on the intended character structure Stephenie Meyer intended him to be?

Okay, maybe dragging a man by his hair to his wife’s feet was a tad cruel coming from Edward Cullen. But think about this: openly insulting the second closest man to his significant other’s heart is not that much of a stretch. If he can repeatedly call Jacob Black with derogatory terms instead of his proper name, how much crueler can Edward Cullen possibly be to someone he has identified as an enemy? For goodness sake, he tore off a heartbroken woman’s head because he killed her mate! He didn’t bother to see Leah’s point of view when she berated Bella and made her cry; he was arrogant enough to claim he knows what Bella is feeling but Leah’s mind is an open book to him, and he doesn’t understand why she’s angry with Bella for breaking Jacob’s heart. If Leah wasn’t remotely important to Jacob, Edward might have killed her if you ask me. So what’s to stop him from wanting to kill Nanuq?

What else could he have reasonably done? Come on, my Twilighter friends. Enlighten me.

An Epiphany as Bright as a Thousand Suns

I listened to Linkin Park’s new album A Thousand Suns and totally fell in love with it. Perhaps it was because of my recent fondness for alternative musicians like Björk, Tori Amos, Emilie Autumn and Rasputina that drew me to Linkin Park’s experimental electronic sound, which deviates from their signature nu rock sound. Many fans have been put off by this. To them, Linkin Park isn’t Linkin Park without the guitar riffs, Chester’s screams alternated with Mike’s raps, Mr. Hahn’s scratches and angst-ridden lyrics. I am one of those few fans who believe that being fans means being loyal to their favorite bands no matter how much they change.

Personally, I respect Linkin Park even more now that they’ve broken out of nu rock. I think their electronic music feels more real in a way. It’s more powerful and poetic rather than excessively woeful and melodramatic. It’s very refreshing to me. The band has matured with their fan base although the fan base has been tragically divided since Minutes to Midnight. Upon the release of A Thousand Suns, fans have either rejected the new sound because this wasn’t what they loved, or embraced it as an artistic development while claiming that accepting the changes that their favorite band experiences is what true fans do. I’m more inclined toward the latter.

I was thirteen when I first became a fan of Linkin Park and I have loved their music very much throughout my adolescent years. The music and lyrics from their first two albums Hybrid Theory and Meteora spoke to me. The raw anguish and sorrow bubbled into a deliciously sour stew; how could I, as a victim of bullying dealing with disappointment over wasted potential, not swallow it up? I felt release upon Chester Bennington’s screams; I felt power upon Mike Shinoda’s rapping. The exquisite blending of rock and hip-hop put me in awe; the absence of profanity earned the band my respect for expressing angst without needing swear words to drive a point.

But I entered college and my life changed forever. I gained the friends I have craved for so long. I experienced acceptance from peers who didn’t laugh or make faces when I expressed my self. I also gained a wide amount of knowledge from philosophy and literature. I learned to appreciate the human experience and everything that comes with it. I learned that art encompasses a wide range of media and genres that appeal to an even wider range of tastes; for example, I agree that Metallica and KISS are epic pop culture icons although I don’t appreciate their music all that much. In other words, I think I have a clear idea on what good music is and Linkin Park’s new sound is just that.

Also, shortly before the release of Minutes to Midnight, I’ve encountered “haters” on the internet that label Linkin Park as “emo” for their melodramatic lyrics; they hated Linkin Park exactly for what I had loved them for in the first place. At first, I laughed it off because it is true that Linkin Park is known for songs that explore rather shallow adolescent issues like self-hate and parental “neglect”. But after some contemplation, I realized that those complaints about Linkin Park are legitimate; there are more issues worth singing about than an anonymous person not caring about you.

So when I listened to Minutes to Midnight, I experienced healing and hope and maturity. I’ve grown up and so has my favorite band. They’re not the way they used to be; the same can be said for me, and I’m glad I’ve left the old “me” behind. Linkin Park is Linkin Park no matter what kind of music they play, just as Stephen King exudes as much talent in Children of the Corn as in Hearts in Atlantis.

Then, A Thousand Suns came out, bringing back the electronic sound that was largely absent from Minutes to Midnight. I love that about A Thousand Suns. And the songs are relentless, unrepentant and unforgiving; a few of them have subtly attacked old songs, indicating newfound hope and freedom as well as a mature perspective of the world. Minimal profanity has also been put to use too, which is surprisingly not a big deal. Linkin Park has gone on record to say that in playing a new sound in this new album, they are not interested in selling records but in artistic expression, an exploration of new music with profound poetry.

I have great respect for Linkin Park. As an artist myself, I want to follow in their footsteps and shine with the light of a thousand suns too.

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Movie Review: Dilim (2005) *SPOILERS AHEAD*

Yesterday, I bought a VCD of a 2005 supernatural action film called Dilim, about a manananggal superhero that uses his superhuman abilities to fight crime. The word manananggal is derived from the word “tanggal” meaning “to remove, divide or sever”; a manananggal is a type of aswang that divides itself in half, leaving its lower half behind while the winged upper half hunts for human prey. I think it is really creative to transform this traditional symbol of evil and abjection into a tortured soul fighting for the common good. This is the first action film I've seen that did not involve rebels defending slum-dwellers or cops that arrive at the crime scene when the climax is over.

Dilim is an alias given to a mysterious crusader who fights criminals and saves the innocent. The local police chief refuses to consider “Dilim” a hero; he thinks the guy is “taking the law into his own hands” and keeps the police from doing their job. He has a lovely daughter named Elisa, who has been estranged from him after the death of her mother.

Afterwards, we see a handsome young loner hanging around at a dump site for scrap metal, where he makes friends with an old man and a little boy. The black-shirt-and-jeans-clad stranger barely speaks, only answering curtly when his new friends ask him questions. We know from the opening fight scene that this is “Dilim” in his human form. In the daytime, he tries to be normal except that he is antisocial. At the dump site, we see him dragging around a sack of the dead bodies, which we know from folklore that he will eat later.

A low-budget, made for television film, a Cinema One original, Dilim draws its strength from this creative reimagining of the manananggal. But for viewers that have high standards, some aspects of the movie might turn them off. Personally, I can’t decide if I hate it or not.

My biggest but least important complaint is the special effects. If you have seen the half-baked leak of X-Men Origins: Wolverine, it’s like that. It would have been great if they used simpler props and utilized camera angles and scene cuts instead of amateurish conspicuous CGI. The stunts and combative choreography are just about as bad. Wait, the choreography might be okay but they look rehearsed.

The night scenes supposedly filmed at rooftops uses CGI backgrounds too. This is a pity because the nighttime cityscape of NCR actually looks good, especially at Makati City and the coastline. The illuminated smog would have provided good lighting as well.

I appreciate the film crew for trying out CGI, but it’s not going to work if it’s only going to distract the viewer with how fake it looks. I would have gasped and exclaimed in excitement at the fight scenes, but I ended up laughing half the time.

The more important flaw of this film is that the hero is a Gary Stu. A Gary Stu is the male counterpart of a Mary Sue; a Mary Sue is a character that is underdeveloped, has no character flaws and is overly romanticized in one way or another. This is usually committed by amateur writers.

A primary complaint about a Mary Sue is that the character has an exotic name or an ordinary name with a glaringly special meaning. The title character commits both violations. He is nicknamed Dilim, because he appears in the dark alleys, at night, when his powers are in full force. To be fair, Dilim is only an alias given to him by the police. But I still think it’s a poor choice. After saving Elisa from a potential rapists and befriending her, we learn that Dilim’s real name is Eman, an increasingly popular nickname for Emmanuel, as an alternative to other nicknames like Manuel or Manny. Emmanuel is a name attributed to Jesus Christ because it is the name Isaiah prophesied that the Messiah will have. It means “God is with us.”

A second complaint about a Gary Stu is angst. This is a sensitive topic when discussing Mary Sues. Angst can work if executed well. But Eman complains about being “cursed” from start to finish. At one point, he asks the local priest, “Was I really created by your so-called God?” The angst includes a fascinatingly gruesome scene in which we see Eman crying while sewing himself where his body cuts in half. This is the best visual effect that the film shows. Some people might think it’s over the top, but I think it’s subtle because of its lack of dialogue. But if you’re a guy who can do a better job than the police in fighting crime, you’d think it’d be cool to use your demonic powers for good, right?

I also think that Eman’s tendency to be withdrawn and moody is a Gary Stu symptom. It all would have worked if the viewer is given sufficient reason BEFOREHAND to sympathize with him. But any source of sympathy is revealed only later so he can come off as “mysterious” for the most part of the film. This is really a pity because the big revelation comes only just before the climax. But because of the tension from anticipating the climax, I almost stop caring about the hero’s tragic past.

In the full revelation at the climax, we learn that Eman ran away from his village as a little boy after his father tells him to “run like we’re just playing tag.” The parents are distressed and you hear an angry mob approaching, apparently in search of the monster child. The fact that his father is played by the same actor in the role of Elisa’s father and that his mother “Karina” is seen in a metaphorical death scene, it could be implied that Elisa is really Eman’s sister. This makes for healthy speculation among the viewers. With that in mind, it could be assumed that when Eman tells Elisa that he loves her, it could be interpreted differently. He says, “I love you” and that’s it. It has an ambiguous feel to it that totally works.

It would have been better if we get a bigger view of Eman’s childhood in the village. But much of the backstory lives on ambiguity. Although this gives the audience a chance to think, it mostly makes the story feel hollow by the end.

But the biggest disappointments I have are the plot holes. Traditionally, the manananggal gets her powers from a magical ointment that she rubs all over her body to make the transformation possible. (She bathes in the morning to turn human again.) But we never see how Eman became a manananggal. Did a witch curse him? Is it congenital? We never know. There are potential plot points that can be bound together, like the main villain who is in league with a witch; it would have been interesting if the hag turns out to be the one who cursed Eman in the first place. But again, we never know.

In relation to that, I also have a problem with the fact that Eman doesn't sprout wings and fly until later. He is only shown to have superhuman strength and senses but he looks perfectly human. It also would have been interesting if we see him creeping into the crook's houses and sucking their blood with his threadlike tongue. WE DON'T SEE SUCH A TONGUE. The manananggal's threadlike tongue is essential to the creature just as the vampire cannot be a vampire without fangs. Oh, and remember when I said Eman drags dead bodies in his shelter? He is never shown eating them. It would have been easy! Raw meat is available in every wet market and for blood, there's chocolate with red food coloring.

And the highlight of the transformation was a disappointment. After writhing in agony for a few minutes, Eman goes after the bad guys and then, his demonic wings burst out and tear his shirt off. Done in crappy CGI, the scene made me end up laughing. Why didn't he just go out there shirtless? And I know he has sewn his midsection, but if his wings can tear his shirt off, why didn't his body get cut in half and pluck off the stitches? Shake, Rattle & Roll has done it better in 1984 and 1992!

What I loved about the film, however, is that the reimagining of the manananggal is innovative. There is an implication that the manananggal is not a symbol of evil as shown in folklore. Dilim/Eman becomes a sort of a Holy Knight toward the climax when, at the verge of his transformation, he approaches the priest, who tells him that God loves him no matter what.

Also in spite of the plot holes that are so huge that buses can fall into them, I like that the story is simple and there is minimal political commentary that you experience too much on television nowadays. The dialogue slides from archaic to colloquial from time to time, but I like that it is fluid and keeps the story at a consistent pace. The characters—even some of the good guys—have no trouble swearing and I like that a lot. Another of this movie's charms is that the plot echoes Spiderman but surprisingly doesn't push it. The urban atmosphere is not too romantic in the literary sense. The crime scenes are something that you see on the news everyday; there's a realistic touch.

The religious tone is gentle and simple. It deviates from the fundamentalist ideals of pacifism and instead uses it as an active force in fighting evil. The priest HANDLES A GUN and joins Elisa’s father in the hunt for the bad guys.

Despite all its flaws, Dilim was enjoyable for me for the most part. This is just what Philippine pop culture needs. Yes, Dilim needs a little more work in reimagining the local mythology but this is a huge step forward.