Tag Archives: facebook

The Incapable Man

These past few days, I’ve been clicking pages like crazy on Facebook, commenting on the whole mess that was the aftermath of the Carlos Celdran incident. But I’m not even gonna go into the ideas I threw in the various debates and discussions I participated in because, most of the time, they felt like food fights. People throwing around greasy drumsticks and fried rice at each other’s faces. I’m not saying I’m above those discussions — just that unlike before when I was in college, this time, I have simply grown tired of them.

It’s like this. After a frenzied polemic on FB or on Twitter, I can’t help feeling stupid. Why?

Others look really proud of it. They continue on, blabber on, atheists vs Christians, liberals vs conservatives, facts vs theories, logic vs just sheer low-class insults. Like I said, I’m not saying I’m above it. The mere fact that I participated means that I care about what people say. But it’s the moment after that heated participation where I just feel like an actor with a dripping pie on my face, like a member of the audience threw it on my face because I suck so badly at what I do.

The truth is, I feel like I’m betraying my reality, the reality of my life as I live it. I mean, here I am, sitting here in my cubicle — one of the hundreds of square, cold, boring cubicles in a square, cold boring building somewhere in EDSA. I am a man who wakes up at 5 AM, works until 9 or 10 PM and sleeps at around 11 PM, these days, sometimes even past 12 o’clock. I’m a bona fide workhorse or beast of burden par excellence. Throw me some extra hay and I’ll work the fields for you. But it’s not even that. It’s not about the amount of work I’m doing, which results in this feeling of betrayal of reality.

No, that disgusting, pathetic feeling comes from projecting this image that I am somehow bigger than I am. There I was, saying things about poverty, what it means to fight for the poor, what involves the eradication of poverty, capitalism, fighting capitalism, love, Christianity, postmodernism, rationality, irrationality, democracy, sociology — the nerd list goes on. There I was, ranting on these things, allowing myself to feel frustrated, angry and even ashamed of a concept or a thought I defended or not defended, but every word I was saying there didn’t seem to reflect my life as I live it.

So was I acting? Continue reading

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I Love Her Through A Spectacle of Words

Words about love have a penchant for evoking the epic in us; perhaps because all our lives, we’ve listened to ’80s love songs on the radio and watched crazy romantic comedies that showed us how amazingly vaudevillian love can be. Sweet messages and heartfelt promises always stroke us the right way, and we wish to fall for someone madly, deeply.

I start with this because I have come to appreciate people’s admiration for my love for Chemae expressed in a torrent of words. I’m not sure if it is proper but I do thank those who click the “like” button on facebook whenever I say something cheesy. It’s a good feeling when people actually sympathize with my ramblings splattered all over her facebook wall and my facebook wall, her blog and mine. I’ve probably expressed my feelings in every nook and cranny of cyberspace for everyone to see.

Never did I mean all that to be a spectacle, of course. If some people found it to be too distracting, mushy or gaudy, I’m sorry but it’s for them to click the X on the upper right hand corner because my love on the Web is staying.

It’s everywhere I look when I turn on my computer but the object of that love is gone now.

Incredible how some 10 or so blog posts ago, I was anticipating a certain plane to arrive and carry her across the skies out of my reach. And now, at this very moment, 6:17 PM here in Manila, she’s aboard that plane I have imagined for almost two years. However you look at it, Chemae has finally left me.

But I’m afraid the only thing I can do is keep on blabbering about her. More thoughts of yearning to be with her will coalesce into letters, and letters will unite to form words, and a string of words will continue to unroll from my fingertips. Nothing can stop me.

I say this to warn everybody of the epic things I’m going to be spewing in the next weeks, months — or years. Unfortunately, those who may be sick of me or us cannot pull off anything to stop this madness I’ve rationally decided upon to continue. I can only hope that there are people out there who will still understand the need for my words to rain down upon everything.

I understand some people like to keep their love hidden from the crowd; but over the course of my relationship with Chemae, I found that mine simply cannot just lock itself up in my mind.

It’s as if I can only love her through a spectacle of words. But I shouldn’t even be wondering out loud about that for she has always been the brightest star of my life.


Filed under Life, Love

Became a Fan

I’m a fan, you’re a fan, all of us are a fan of some higher being or object that is so much more wonderful than us. We, the masses, are undergoing a massive “fanization,” a process by which we are turning into followers of every brand of pizza, microblog and your staple rock band. I guess there’s just so many of us that it is getting harder and harder to imagine all of us will be big someday. Someone who’s better educated, more widely connected, has a better eye for color and a better ear for notes, and more natural curls in their thicker hair is bound to take that spotlight away from us. Doors of fame closing on all sides, we resign happily to the status of becoming a fan. It’s as if the old fanaticism for religion had disintegrated into a trillion smaller fandoms, each with their own rites, beliefs and sacrifices. And our gods look down at us, and make use of us by convincing us to buy their t-shirts, CDs and listening to their gospels uploaded on facebook. Nah, this is not about commercialization. Such an old cliche concept! After all, we know we wanna buy and we don’t have any problems with that. When did you last see a person feel guilty over buying a DVD of an indie film starring Gael Garcia Bernal, anyway? So it’s not the same commercialization rubbish. It’s just about becoming a fan of a whole shelf of personas and things that have acquired personalities of their own; and becoming content with that, sincerely glad for these things. I don’t know. There’s something sweet and sour in that acceptance.

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Pinball Reflections 1-25


At some point in his life, a person may stumble upon the erroneous conclusion about himself that he is awesome. He believes it for the rest of his life.
To put on a show for other people — one must be really bored with himself when he’s all alone.
An egg breaks when you drop it. A man bleeds when you stab him. A baby stops crying when you feed her. So where’s the need for superstition?
We just hate it when someone speaks for our thoughts more clearly than how we would have done it. Makes us feel all dumb and silent.
A man who searches for hidden things is a desperate man. Continue reading

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