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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

entry arrow5:04 PM | A Whirlwind of a Day with Computer Problems, Bad Love Songs, and the Dixie Chicks

Something's terribly wrong with my computer, or perhaps my Internet connection at home. Bombarding the hard disc with so much movie files (torrenting taken to the extreme, I guess...) may have taken its toll. Then again, the computer I have -- which dearest Francois gifted me a few years back -- is a little old and cranky now, and the many, many trips to the computer shop to repair this and that may have taken its toll on the poor old and faithful thing.

Which is why I am back in Scooby's doing my online work now -- and right in the middle of the semester, too. Grrr. Which is why I am sad, and stressed out. Which is why I'm spying somebody's brandnew-looking laptop computer a few feet away from me, and I find myself drooling.

Oh well.

I've been subsisting on coffee lately -- mostly black, which is an acquired taste but proves eventually exquisite. I have so much work to do (that's why this computer problem is a inconvenience to me now), and I need all the energy boosters I can get. Sometimes I wish there were more hours in the day, and sometimes I wish I could have the power to will myself not to sleep for a week straight, and not ravage my body. Sometimes I wish I had the foresight to buy a laptop years ago...

Early this afternoon, I was part of the panel to pre-judge the competing pieces in Silliman University's annual Valentine Songwriting Competition for tonight. (I know which one I will make win.) Some of the compositions were amateurishly written -- the same casual nod to the romantic tropes in lyric-making. Nothing new here. I loved one or two songs, but the rest were forgettable pieces which had no more ambition beyond two or three chords. Parang Yeng Constantino, only less poetic. Some of the lyrics were brutally bad. One "love song" is a horrifying paean to domestic violence, while another one was completely murderous, with lyrics that alluded to "human shields" taking in "bullets," "stabbing," and what have you. Terrifying. The frightful thing is that many of these composers are former students. How do I make judgment without making any of them cry?

I should write about this soon, on Valentines Day.

Speaking of songs, I watched the Grammys last night, and was exhilirated when the Dixie Chicks -- Dubya's foes and country music's elegant outcasts -- walked away with all the major awards, and swept the rest. The New York Times called the wins a "vindication." (Read the article here.) I love this part of the article:

Mr. [Jeff] Ayeroff, who founded the voter-registration group Rock the Vote, said a man sitting behind him in the Grammy audience snickered each time the Dixie Chicks received another trophy. "Finally," Mr. Ayeroff said, "I got so disgusted, I turned around and said: 'Dude, you're in California now. Even our Republicans are Democrats.'"


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