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Thoroughly enjoyed Venom! I mean, itās not gonna change the trajectory of superhero movies, but it stayed true to what I love about Eddie and Venomās dynamic.
I do understand why itās gotten mixed reviews.
1) People expected it to connect to Spiderman somehow which it didnāt (couldnāt?).
2) It didnāt follow the formula of recent mainstream superhero movies, and
3) It was trying to tell to many stories at once. They could have skipped over Anne and Eddieās love story for more of Venomās journey from invader to inhabitant of earth.
I donāt care much for 1 & 2. Itās a different universe, a different studio and shouldnāt be expected to conform, but I desperately want more Symbrock. I would have happily let the whole Anne thing resolve itself in the sequel.
Overall, it was massively entertaining and a Friday date well spent. š¤
One of the few photos of me from yesterday because I was too busy running around and taking photos of everyone else. Still so happy even if I was wet from the rain and running on empty (I forgot to eat lunch whoops). #RiseUpTogether š
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Didnāt realize how exhausting it would be to man MMPās IG feed for todayās event and I wasnāt even able to stay for the evening program! Still, much fun was had and Iād do it again in a heartbeat (or next year). āŗļø
Despite the heat, then the rain (and the eventual headache), it was heartwarming to see the community come together and exude absolute happiness at being in a safe space where every one is free to be who they are.
Happy Pride, everyone! Hoping for a world where every day feels this way. š
I tagged my father on Facebook by accident, yesterday.
Iāve heard lots of people speak on these
social media eulogiesāheard them say
the comfort they take in the lingering presence
of names too easily forgotten,
heard them say they are grateful
that our footprint on this world is
just a little bit harder to erase.
But I am so tired of making gospel
of a dead man.
I hate the way he shows up in the suggestions
every time I type my own last name;
this is a strange kind of hauntingā
one where I do not see him in the shadows
of my parentsā home, but instead
at three AM in my own apartment,
cities away from the place where he died.
Two and a half years later,
and he is still smiling in his profile picture.
I didnāt do poetry when my father was alive.
But a few weeks ago, I accidentally invited him
to a poetry slam in a city heās never been to.
And maybe there was a part of me
still hoping heād show up to it.
I have a lot of things left to say to my father,
got a lot of heartbreak that went unanswered for,
apologies on both sides that were never given.
But this is not the kind of grief you leave
on a Facebook wall. This is not
āI thought about you, todayā kind of pain.
And I canāt help but resent all the people
whose aftermath is so simple
as to be parsed out in a three hundred character paragraph
on a page my family does not have the password for.
How dare their grief be so succinct.
I have spent two and a half years
trying to put words to this,
I still donāt have enough of them.
I cannot stomach the āI miss youās from strangers:
people he hadnāt spoken to in twenty years,
people who did not know the ugly of his last moments,
who remember the man before the sickness,
who did not grow up in a house full of landmines,
did not kiss their father goodnight knowing
he was a time-bomb.
I know itās selfish, but
I do not want to be privy to their second-hand grief.
I donāt care what his college friends have to say about him.
His wall has become a morgue I did not want
to be buried in.
So instead, I resurrect his ghost on a microphone,
I pray to half-forgotten echoes of a childhood
where his love did not come with a caveat,
I refuse to lay him down to rest and yet
I have the gall to be sanctimonious.
All this time, and I am still willing
to put parameters around everyone elseās grieving
without taking responsibility for my own.
My fatherās Facebook wall is a reminder
of all the people who have managed to move on
from his passing, when here I am:
writing the same poem
for the hundredth time,
no closer to being able
to say goodbye to him.
FACEBOOK EULOGIES by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
Bad Introvert Talks Movies: Black Panther (Wakanda Ooh Na Na)
Let me preface this by saying that I am strictly an Marvel Cinematic Universe girl. I get by with what I need for speculation off comic book canon but by and large my perspective is solely rooted in the MCU. Not only that for, this particular film, Iām an outsider looking in. I may be fairly cognizant of issues that were painted in Black Panther, but thereās only so much I can discuss about how impactful it is to have a movie about black characters taking on black issues.
That being said, hot damn, Black Panther was a good movie. Solid storytelling with multi-faceted characters against the vivid background of Wakanda. It was an introduction to Tāchalaās motives and objectives as a man, king and protector as it was an introduction to Wakanda as a nation and as a people.
As a fangirl who plays in the MCU sandox,I loved that the movie was able to stand on its own and at the same time give us a view of how the Black Panther and Wakanda itself will integrate with the greater Marvel universe come Infinity War.
There was also a lot of parallels of real world issues that would mostly be missed by someone who isnāt as familiar with said issues. One of my friends for example found the movie too ātribalā (deep breaths) which I feel comes from a perspective thatās heavily influenced by largely white-washed Western media. Especially since Black Panther wasnāt just tackling race issues, it was coming at it from a place in history that a lot of non-black people have forgotten or were never educated about.
Even I had to remind myself that Wakanda is literally in Africa and therefore calling Agent Ross ācolonizerā and talking about āconquered vs conquerā wasnāt just a heavy handed way of discussing race issues, it comes from a very real part of this fictional countryās history.
There are so may things to pick apart and dissect that I appreciated how the different acts of the movie were cut into actual mini stories. From the introduction to Wakanda, to TāChalla taking on the responsibilities of the throne, to Klaue, to Killmonger and then finally to that breath-taking climax where Wakandan is pitted against Wakandan.
So much was put into the movie that Iām in awe that it didnāt feel at all like the movie was taking on too much.
We had a throwback to Tāchaka and what happened in Civil War, an intro to Wakanda and all these new characters, Tāchalaās journey and various conflicts (external, internal, bigger external, bigger internal), an amazing villain origin story for Killmonger, concrete personal intentions for all the actions of the key players and a final battle where foes turned allies and allies turned foes
My favorite part of course are the women. The women! Shuri is a literal Disney Princess, intelligent and compassionate and an absolute ray of sunshine. Okoye is fierce and loyal and conflicted but also isnāt afraid to be affectionate and soft. Ramonda is royalty personified. Not a leader, but a true mother of Wakanda. Sheās protective and willing to stand up and fight for her children but also knows when to bend for them. And finally Nakia who is cunning and brave and has a heart too big for Wakanda.
To be honest I would have been happy without the romance between her and Tāchalla. Not because I think Tāchalla and Sam as a couple would be cute as hell (I can enjoy that in fanfic tyvm), but because I didnāt feel like it was necessary aside from it filling a romantic storyline quota.
I am eternally grateful though that Nakia wasnāt just a love interest. She was a fully formed character that just happened to be romantically involved with Tāchalla and thatās something thatās severely lacking in most movies, not just action/comic book ones.
In fact all of the women were multi-dimensional characters in their own right and didnāt need any sort of saving at any point in the movie. They were essential to both moving the story forward and in winning that final battle.
As we move towards the end of Phase Three of the MCU Iām still expecting to see Black Panther as a strong part of the MCU moving forward. Thereās still so much to play with and with the expectation that the older Avengers will be turning over the mantle to a new team, I hope to see more of Tāchalla, Shuri and Wakanda in general.
Other things that I loved:
Tāchalla in the ancestral plane reminded me of āeverything the light touches is our kingdomā.
Is Everett Ross the new Coulson? As long as he doesnt get sent to Tahiti Iām down. Iām so tired of mourning over characters I like even if itās temporary. (Iām looking at you Infinity war!)
Shuriās gleeful, āGreat! Another broken white boy for us to fix.ā (No, I did not audibly squee in the theater. No maāam)
Mābaku is a certified scene stealer and I would love to see more of him
Where be my lesbians?? Honestly I was expecting Okoye and Nakia to be a thing. Apparently it wasnāt just me wearing my rainbow-tinted glasses, there really was speculation during the beginning that one of the characters would be a lesbian so Iām not just making it up.
Michael B. Jordan. Hot damn hot damn hot damn. Killmonger in itself was a great character but he ascended to another level in the hands of Michael B. Jordan.
Two great shots that stayed with me: Killmonger looking on as the garden of the heart-shaped herb burned. And that tracking shot that started out upside down when Killmonger sat on the Wakandan throne.
and of course BUCKY! What kind of Bucky stan would I be if I didnāt mention the light of Steve Rogersā life. So many things to speculate with that āWhite Wolfā shout out.
And now just like everyone else Iām vibrating with excitement as we countdown to Infinity War!!!
I know that youāre trying to scrub the internet of it, but freaking amazing job on that trailer. It looks epic and I absolutely cannot wait for Infinity War now.
My precious Bucky and the whole Wakandan army.
Cap with a beard. (Heh)
Baby Avenger Peter not dying. (Donāt you dare!)
All my Avenger cupcakes banding together with the Guardians.
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For the longest time Iāve been wondering how to get myself to start writing on this blog more.Ā
Aside from my ubiquitous lurking presence on the internet I havenāt really made an effort to carve a niche in it. Blogging requires a certain amount of egotism and absolute spades of openness.
The former, I humbly (as ironic as that sounds) admit I have, but the latter has never really been my nature.
I realize though that if I format my posts as letters, it will feel less like Iām opening myself up to the world and instead feel like Iām simply conversing with an old friend.
So here it is, void, another possible futile attempt to form the habit of blogging and hopefully get me back into writing.
I've been volunteering for the Metro Manila Pride March for a couple of years now but it's the first time I've actually been able to experience the march.
We were late so we weren't even able to witness the start of the march but still I find myself struggling to find the words to describe the experience of walking with this amazing community who continuously struggles to find safe spaces for them to love who they love and be who they want to be.
It's like the Pride March feels like a big eff you to that struggle and at the same time a celebration and outpouring of love that the LGBTQ+ community posses in spades. It's been tough finding people who believe in us so we believe in ourselves and in each other instead.
No wonder we love rainbows and unicorns so much. š š¦
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