Great Expectations

The problem with a the whole charade that is dating and courtship is that there is a definite beginning and a definite end. We like someone, we ask them out, get to know them and pop the question. Sounds easy enough, but chances are majority of such pursuits have resulted in pain, anguish and heartbreak (even if he or she said yes).

While it is entirely possible that there is life after the end of ritual dating between two individuals, or a possibility of a second, third even fourth chance, the flow is still the same. Perhaps thinking too much over the sequence of this overly complicated process is what makes it so difficult. We usually come in with great expectations, positive thinking and the like, only to have our still-beating hearts thorn out in front of us and eviscerated to bloody little pieces.

"Like-liking" someone usually leads to love or cowardice. You either go for it or sit back wallowing as opportunities pass by leaving you with nothing but a fistful of regret. Even if you did muster enough courage to test the waters, the beach at the other end may not be what you expect it to be. However, one must ask, is it quite possible to simply enjoy the swim and not worry about getting through to the other side of the river of relationships and even accept staying there forever? If only we could be that naive and blind.

It may seem half-hearted if not guarded, but really, such a mindset would allow one to actually enjoy the company of the intended mark without hoping for a "yes" or an "i love you". Expectations are all good and well, but more often than not they lead us to think that a certain action or deed equals something similar. You give her flowers or treat her to dinner equals you getting lucky. Either that or you try to entice your friends to drag him along so you can have an excuse to chat. That's not how it works with people with free will. Sure you could always woo and seduce but they work differently with different people. The best we can do is to make our intentions known and hope for the best. Now you know how God feels trying to win you over and doing nothing about it because he gave you free will.

The game of love is fickle, whimsical and, if you'll excuse my language, a vapid bitch. No matter how much of a nice guy you are (and usually being called one is a death sentence or at the very least a lifetime membership to the friend zone), that doesn't necessarily mean the other person is obligated to reciprocate or be grateful.

Expect the worst, hope for the best. Make a good impression if you must but don't ever think that helps, unless one is fine having the prospective partner simply agreeing to the relationship on some ludicrous sense of gratitude. By then he or she isn't doing both of you any favors. If one truly wants the real thing, present your case and be done with it. After all, what is heartbreak but a momentary event of pain?

Two Sides of A Coin

After finally getting the chance to watch Nolan's much-anticipated chef-d'oeuvre, Batman: The Dark Knight, there was only one word that can sum up my feelings for the latest iteration of the Caped Crusader: AWESOME.

Say what you want about taking comic book movies seriously, but as it stands, The Dark Knight wasn't treated as just some comic book flick produced to appease nerds or a family movie cash-in. Rather, Nolan et al decided to tell this story with the same amount of attention any self-respecting director would approach literary classics like the Count of Monte Cristo. At the end of the day, making a film is about telling a story, and The Dark Knight did exactly that, tell the story of Batman/Bruce Wayne in awe-inspiring and meticulous detail.

But making a review was never this author's intention. As the tag suggests, this post was made to ponder and ramble on the themes and abstract concepts tackled by the film's script. So onwards to the inaneity.

The inclusion of the main protagonist's arch-rival the Joker was probably what catapulted this movie from great to simply epic. The late Heath Ledger did well in portraying the most engaging rogue of Batman's gallery. The Clown Prince of Crime, in his mad and deranged glory may seem like a simple criminal in clown make-up. Going beyond the image however, the Joker becomes a caricature of order. Society has a set of rules, based upon fear of consequence and what many consider is sane. Take away those rules and the world seems bereft, pointless and all at the same time amusing. Self-preservation becomes the only rule and even then the vacuity of it all makes that meaningless to a point. Some men only want to see the world burn. After all, isn't it all a big joke, imaginary rules, order and whatnot. In the end all that does not matter. Or does it?

In an interesting twist of the age old Prisoner's Dilemma, the movie delivers probably its greatest scene. Two boats, rigged with explosives, one filled with civilian's, the other filled with the inhabitants of the city's correctional facility. Each boat is given a detonator (that activates the other boat's bombs) and an ultimatum. The logical and pragmatic solution would be to save the civilians and let the convicts die. This twisted irony is perhaps the script's crowning glory and people may not even realize it. Never mind that Batman saved the day and stopped the boats from being pink mist, this just shows that even sinners, rapists and murderers, can have a hint of decency, and the decent law-abiding citizen, can be just as cold and heartless as they are. While Batman claims that not everyone is like the Joker and the experiment failed, the notion that the big dog amongst Gotham's scum doing an act of sacrifice actually proves the Joker's theory, post-humously.

Perhaps as an ode to one of the greatest Batman novels ever written, a sort of Killing Joke-ish angle is explored throughout the movie. As the novel suggests, sometimes all it takes is one bad day that even the best of us can just snap. In the film, the proverbial White Knight is the incomparable Gotham district attorney Harvey Dent. Despite being the celebrated high moral compass of the city Dent succumbs to the madness of betrayal, formulating his own concept of justice dictated by chance, represented entirely by two side of coin. Fortune was on his side as Batman takes on the polar opposite of Dent's moniker. As the Dark Knight, Batman remains the guardian of the near-dystopian Gotham minus all the glory and acclaim.

A parallelism between the two arch-rival eventually emerges. Both obviously have serious mental disorders (tell me jumping around rooftops dressed as a bat isn't crazy, nevermind being dressed as a clown and committing crimes). However they operate on conflicting spectrums. As always, Batman's crusade is one that is frowned upon by many, the brutality and destruction to property notwithstanding. Still, the detective in Batman is evident, still following the methods of law enforcers only circumventing the rules that hogtie them into doing anything worthwhile against criminals.

The Joker on the other hand does away with the traditional mien of criminality. The motivation is simply for amusement and disturbing pleasure, a crusade to prove that anyone, given the right circumstances, can go bat-shit insane (pardon the pun). It's not money, vengeance or what not that drives him, but simple down to the basics anarchy.

In conclusion, the author would highly recommend a second (and third, and fourth) viewing, if only to rediscover the many themes of the human psyche explored by the Dark Knight. It is somewhat fitting that the 2nd villain, Harvey "Two-Face" Dent is caught in the crossfire, his signature coin and two-face represent the opposing natures of both Batman and Joker. As well as the duality of their respective crusades, which has the two fighting it out in see-saw battle of intelligence backed up by relative insanity. An epic battle that only Nolan can truly capture in film.

Changes

They say that the only thing permanent in life is change.

Now before one goes on and claims the apparent contradiction, keep in mind that the more things change, the more things stay the same. Bravo Snake Plissken, despite being the stereotypical chauvinistic and gritty anti-hero, you surely showed a bit of depth with that nugget of wisdom.

People change, times change, the paradigm shifts and everything goes to hell, and back again. Whether it's the End of History as the old grand narratives of the Cold War, the two World Wars or the many wars of antiquity have come and gone, or a Clash of Civilization wherein the Age of Information has us in constant conflict due to our diverse belief systems, the natural progression, it would seem, is that of conflict.

There can really be no change if there is no conflict, on the personal or socio-political level. Lovers won't break up if there is no conflict, direct or indirect. It may be due to infidelity or simply the two moving in opposing directions. Nations and countries are mostly built around conflicts, war, protest or the people having an opposing view of the incumbent regime. It is not a question of violence, but rather the presence of an anti-thesis to challenge the existing model.

This of course begs the question, can change actually be proactive? Considering the idea of being proactive was born due to the ineffectivity of reactive behavior, that kind of makes the question null and void. Change for the sake of change maybe considered a proactive stance but then again, considering how such policies are merely for show then I guess that puts that idea in the crapper as well.

Is change then aligned to conflict and to a point, entropy? Perhaps there is truth to the saying that one does not need to fix what was never broken. Following that logic and applying that to people, can we truly change without being broken at first?

The Heart of the Matter (Forgive, But Don't Forget)

The Heart of the Matter, at least according to Don Henley, is forgiveness. Of course, the hit song, according to Henley, took him 42 years to write. While clearly an exaggeration, the concept of forgiveness does take a long time to conceive. With mankind's penchant of having personal biases, the very idea of accepting faults is somewhat contrary to one's very nature.

Then again, Henley did say that the song only took 4 minutes to sing. Once arriving at the point of admission, accepting the guilt and error of one's ways, everything just seems more streamlined. The healing is easier, faster. Once done with any notion of grudges, things are more agreeable, pleasant and understandable.

Forgive and Forget. The age old adage does lend some wisdom. However, forgetting would mean being unable to learn from past mistakes and errors. There is no wisdom in refusing to learn one's letters.

To err is human, to forgive divine. Indeed, being slighted is never pleasant. Notice however that there is not mention of forgetting in this similarly overused phrase. For whatever trespasses and transgressions received, it would be safe to assume that forgiveness will eventually come. Forgetting the entirety of the situation, the sins behind it all, on the other hand, is nigh impossible.

However, the hardest person to forgive is usually one's self. The practice is commonplace, people would feel better placing blame into something or someone, the self being the most convenient culprit or scapegoat. Boyfriend cheated on you, more likely than not, it has to be your fault. Somebody dies, it's your fault, you tell yourself. Such rationalizations make no sense to the outsider, but makes a mountain of logic to the bearer. It is mankind's curse of free will and ability to empathize that allows such things, and often these people find themselves broken.

Such self-pity can be comforting really. Majority do not want to admit it but it's a just so damn easy to explain everything with inherent misfortune. Perhaps it is time that people just stop and think to themselves "Have I forgiven myself already?"

And I say to myself "Yeah, just now..."

Where Has the Time Gone?

Nowadays, seems like the reunions with friends of old are becoming too far and few in between. What is troubling personally is seeing how many children are popping up in the pictures of old acquaintances in various social networking sites. Usually meaning I'll end up getting an invitation for either a wedding or a baptismal... a clear sign that the days of innocent (well, actually, not-so-innocent) youth are slowly but surely coming to an end. It's only a matter of time until everyone I know is organizing children's birthday parties and I can't have any cake because I'm too old...

I just realized that I've forgotten more than I can remember. Looking back I could never figure out how I was able to argue that having public offices like government owned enterprises where best run by treating it like it was under the private sector and that the best public administrators are those who do more by doing less (i.e. steering instead of rowing). So many principles the theories I no longer recall where I could once write circles around them. Perhaps I should've saved those papers, might prove to be insightful despite that being of a different mindset.

It felt like yesterday that all the cares in the world where so distant that didn't warrant any attention. Used to be getting the paper or the schoolwork done was life and death. Concerns of the real world and what the future holds were more fleeting, and were shallow at best. There may be times that they pop up like that annoying guy who keeps asking you what's up even though you don't want anything to do with them, but still the episodes were short and felt like they were not canon to our personal continuity... until it's too late.

Regret is a sure sign that one is growing older. It's like a drug, we say we want to stop looking back and wishing things would be different, but we just can't help ourselves. We keep coming back, and we hate ourselves for doing so. Regret, as some may have surmised in the many ramblings prior to this entry, is a loathsome word that seems to brandish its dreary self more often than we wish. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all live through our regrets. It defines us in more ways than we think it does. It is a lot easier to be something we don't want to be than to be something that we want. Ambitions are more or less anchored by flights of fancy and going beyond possibility. Regrets and fears are usually based on a grounded rationale. Guess which one is more plausible?

People who say that they have no regrets are the people who've figured it out. They're not fooling themselves, they're not delusional. They understand the concept, and they embrace it. They don't kick themselves or sell themselves short every time they turn back to regret like a crack whore. They accept its part in reality and how in the end, success and failure, despite being polar opposites, follow they same laws of the universe: They are memories associated to them... and like most memories, they are destined to fade.

The Joke's On You

Jokes are a devices meant to generate mirth, humor, laughter and general amusement. In the hands of the talented and eloquent, jokes can make light of weighty situations, obscuring the seriousness and presenting a more casual perspective. In the hands of the dubious, jokes can hurt, belittle and cause even the most meek of lambs into raving lunatics or the stoic to whimper. The more intelligent of us can make into art, often reflecting the current paradigm, or proving insight hidden between the lines of witty delivery.

The punchline can be so right on the money that it can even be more cruel than any crude and blatant insult. It hits right at home, cutting deep and proves to be more sad than funny, and yet we can't help but laugh in the sheer honesty of it all.

The funniest persons I know are usually the saddest persons I know. Humor is but a way to cope with the world's brutal ass-kicking we receive on a daily basis. With their insecurities and hang ups, the funny man, the comedian amongst us finds solace in making others laugh as a way to veil their own sadness. A joke that best describes this is taken from Alan Moore's Watchmen:

Heard a joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says "But Doctor... I am Pagliacci."

Context plays a critical role in the telling of jokes. One cannot illicit humor if the intended audience "isn't in on it". The relationship between a comedian and his/her audience by itself, serve as the very basis of the joke. Accepting that would mean that sometimes witty one-liners and zingers tells us more about the relationship, the dynamics behind it and why it exists.

Jokes are cultural, meaning what may be funny to a Frenchman may go way above the head of Somalian, obviously. Again, it reflects the popular paradigm that exists in that culture. Is it any wonder that majority of comics are also the smartest people around? Yet again, while the hahas and guffaws are plenty, taking a long look at the punchline usually results into a different perspective to a seemingly hopeless situation. So much so that the best we can do to cope with it is to make it sound cynically humorous.

One is led to ask why? Why is it that the comic in us would consider grave circumstances as material for our latest jape? Is it perhaps, that for us, life in itself is one big joke? Paraphrasing a quote taken from Alan Moore's Batman: The Killing Joke, is everything some monstrous, demented gag and we have no choice but to see the funny side? What if we refuse to see it? or worse... what if we don't get it?

See the Unseen

Mama San once asked me what ever did happen to my supposed post on our trip to Baguio. I had grand ideas for that post too, even coming up with a rough outline like what most organized writers do instead of my usual "type until a make some sort of sense" technique of writing. I'd talk about the climate, the people, the food - ah such illusions of grandeur that perpetuate the mind of a hack.

Instead I'd prefer to keep Baguio ingrained in my mind and refuse to share it with the world because I don't think my words can ever do justice to the awesomeness of that road trip. I will however, touch on something... shall we say... unnatural?

Recently my interest in the occult and the paranormal have been piqued the past couple of days, perhaps because I recall being traumatized by certain movies in my childhood, one of which was the original Omen. Hence, my hatred towards small children who just stare at you and keep quiet. Seriously, tell me that's not creepy?

Speaking of out-of-town trips, one of the hazards of partaking in the great outdoors in a country which has a rich folklore like the Philippines usually means that paranormal stories and legends add to the flavor of the trip. That made absolutely no sense, but I don't really care, it sounded like it was profound and it meant something... whatever.

Mama San is gifted, or cursed, with what we call the Sixth Sense. "I see dead people" is just the tip of the iceberg, so M. Night Shamaladingdong only touched on very little on the aspect of ESP or the Third Eye. These people can also see beings that are not visible to the naked eye. You know, the underpants gnomes, them hobbits and fairies. Now you would think I would scoff at such things, but it is my firm belief that one should never discount the presence of beings beyond our understanding... I mean, come on, Britney Spears?

That said, I am absolutely certain that I'm blessed not to have such "gifts". On the other hand, the paranormal has a degree of appeal that leads me to keep coming back for more. Be it unexplained elements of a picture, strange smells of local flowers like a sampaguita while walking in isolated and poorly lit environs or mysterious knocks on one's bedroom door despite having no one there every time you answer it.

What is it about the unseen that stimulates man's imagination? A world within ours not seen by the naked eye does sound intriguing... but at the same time, I personally think it's somewhat depressing. Imagine a culture secluded from ours, knowledge unknowable to us for we lack that extra ability to see the unseen. Oh the things we could learn from one another.

Of course, while I see the missed opportunities of learning and sharing with an alternative culture, one that is beyond our imagination, I'm not for stirring the hornet's nest. To paraphrase the bastardize Hollywood version of Alan Moore's Hellblazer's Constantine, "You see them, they see you." Truly, sociological pursuits are the least of my concerns when faced with something that scares me honestly. Perhaps further exposure and understaning would take that away, but really, I'm just human. After all, it is simply in our nature to be afraid of the unknown.