Brain being drained, or already drained
I'm writing a brochure. Four brochures. They're related to that f-locked entry last week.
I'm good with content, more or less. What I really need are pictures. I'm in the midst of convincing one of the school directors that we need DSLR-quality photos for this brochure to look sparkling good. He insists that point-and-shoot will suffice; I'm trying to sway him towards the right direction. And if that prof's got an ego the size of this campus, damn that's a chore.
Ugh. This job's a pain in the ass sometimes.
Been talking about this in Skype with Mama earlier, and she told me it's a waste of time to be even bothering myeslf with this shenaniganry. XD
--- --- ---
I finished Les Miserables last week, and I've begun reading The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami.
It's been an awesome read thus far. I love the way Murakami does magic realism; for me his approach is better than a more acclaimed writer in the same genre, Gabriel Garcia Marquez; the latter's stories I don't think I'll ever learn to appreciate. I've read One Hundred Years of Solitude, what they say is his greatest work ever, and it came to me as, well ... bland. Probably it's because it's like seeing the history of this country unfold, since one of its central themes is that history repeats itself. It's not a revolutionary thought, nor is it something new - for me, at least. Probably at the time it was written, it was a theme that had not gained wide acceptance. I've read Chronicle of a Death Foretold for LITERA2 during college and it wasn't exactly my cup of tea as well.
Murakami's storytelling however, is down-to-earth, and at the same time, there is something very dream-like about the way his stories are, no matter how utterly realistic his story flows. That's what spells the difference between him and Garcia Marquez. You can't help but turn the pages - enthusiastically, at that.
--- --- ---
Still on that Skype discussion, I mentioned a tad bit about a dilemma about work and my mom barrages me with a crapload of suggestions. Dammit, I didn't ask for this, I thought to myself. I know they'll be useful to me sometime in the future, but right now, the last thing I wanted was to think too much about work. I hate it so much when my mom asks me about work when I'm not in the mood to, which is something she does often. Uuuuugggghhhh!!!!
Forget this crappy Internet connection. I'll just read.
I'm good with content, more or less. What I really need are pictures. I'm in the midst of convincing one of the school directors that we need DSLR-quality photos for this brochure to look sparkling good. He insists that point-and-shoot will suffice; I'm trying to sway him towards the right direction. And if that prof's got an ego the size of this campus, damn that's a chore.
Ugh. This job's a pain in the ass sometimes.
Been talking about this in Skype with Mama earlier, and she told me it's a waste of time to be even bothering myeslf with this shenaniganry. XD
--- --- ---
I finished Les Miserables last week, and I've begun reading The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami.
It's been an awesome read thus far. I love the way Murakami does magic realism; for me his approach is better than a more acclaimed writer in the same genre, Gabriel Garcia Marquez; the latter's stories I don't think I'll ever learn to appreciate. I've read One Hundred Years of Solitude, what they say is his greatest work ever, and it came to me as, well ... bland. Probably it's because it's like seeing the history of this country unfold, since one of its central themes is that history repeats itself. It's not a revolutionary thought, nor is it something new - for me, at least. Probably at the time it was written, it was a theme that had not gained wide acceptance. I've read Chronicle of a Death Foretold for LITERA2 during college and it wasn't exactly my cup of tea as well.
Murakami's storytelling however, is down-to-earth, and at the same time, there is something very dream-like about the way his stories are, no matter how utterly realistic his story flows. That's what spells the difference between him and Garcia Marquez. You can't help but turn the pages - enthusiastically, at that.
--- --- ---
Still on that Skype discussion, I mentioned a tad bit about a dilemma about work and my mom barrages me with a crapload of suggestions. Dammit, I didn't ask for this, I thought to myself. I know they'll be useful to me sometime in the future, but right now, the last thing I wanted was to think too much about work. I hate it so much when my mom asks me about work when I'm not in the mood to, which is something she does often. Uuuuugggghhhh!!!!
Forget this crappy Internet connection. I'll just read.