Those familiar with the story of Rodrigo Borgia a.k.a Pope Alexander VI and his family, may be familiar with Godfather author Mario Puzo's account of the first crime family in his novel The Family. Though based on history, Puzo took some liberties in order to present a more tightly knit (in my opinion) story. The accuracy may be in question but the gist of the life and times of the Borgia are there. One character that sticks to my mind, although playing a small role, was Perotto, who I hereby dub the patron Saint of Hopeless Romantics (or the Patron Saint of Lovesick Idiots).
Without spoiling much of the great read that is Puzo's The Family, Perotto's character was memorable to me because he was pussy-whipped so bad that it echoed throughout history. This man, for a love of woman, not only claimed to father a child that wasn't even his, he even went above and beyond his "friendship" duty and died for that claim (Basing it on Puzo's account). If the Renaissance ever had a poster child for F*ck My Life worthiness or the ultimate case study of Why the Friend Zone Sucks, Perotto would be their man.
This little tale of selflessness if not base stupidity brings us back to that thin line between love and stupidity. Why would a person even bother risking everything over a situation in which winning or gaining something is entirely impossible if not ridiculuosly improbable? It may be true love but there comes a time that one must question the mechanics of separating the ability to love to the ability of seeing reason. Surely a bit of pragmatism would've helped the situation but nooooo, dear Perotto here had to go on and be a hero, and we all know how well that turned out.
The friend zone is a nasty little place. While it doesn't sound so bad on paper, it really, just REALLY, sucks. BIG TIME. I've often said that I do not wish it upon anyone, because the long, arduous and painstaking torture that it invokes is, in a way, totally justified. The "friend zoned" person agrees to the terms and conditions set upon by both parties, perhaps under the false pretense that things can change, or that somehow he or she (yes, apparently the female gender can be banished to this zone, which is rare) can get used to this setup and move on with their lives while gaining a very valuable confidante. If only we were all that lucky.
If anything, Perotto's tale does prove that there is a thin line, the only problem is, to many people, as to just how thin that line is, is relative. So here's to you Perotto, thank you for making some of us who are threading that thin line feel better, because as of right now, I doubt anyone can blur it as much as you.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Thin Line (An Ode to Perotto)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Little Things
"I never did care for the little things" so says Maggie Hayward, Bridget Fonda's forgettable protagonist in the 1993 film Point of No Return, a somewhat bland and forgettable remake of Nikita. Granted the scene in which this line was delivered seems a bit macabre considering her partner was just shot by their organization's "The Cleaner" played by Hollywood bad ass Harvey Keitel and summarily dipped in an acid-filled bath tub.
Of course, the little things, or the details, are often best left ignored if you're the gung-ho devil-may-care maverick who prefers extreme spontaneity rather than well-planned and calculated decisions. But at the end of the day a certain balance must be struck or one will find themselves, as U2's Bono puts it, Stuck In A Moment that you can't get out of. As the global economy enters into a period of recession, the little things all of a sudden being to matter and prove to be worth caring about.
No we're not talking about the recent layoffs major companies have made, such things are pretty obvious and a man or woman's livelihood are hardly one would call details considering it's essentiality to survival. We're talking about the miniscule little practices or expendetures that prior to the economic "crisis", were things that we hardly take notice of.
Before, I wouldn't have to worry about making it to the next payday since I believe I make enough to provide for day to day needs and a few vices here and there. Two books a month, a gadget from time to time or a big time gift to potential prospect were items or purchases that I could afford to just wave dismisally as nothing. Nowadays however, despite the gas prices being the lowest it has been in years, I have to stop and think about if I have enough to make it to the next payday. All of a sudden I get thoughts like "that book will just have to wait" or "I don't really need that gadget" or even "She's not really my type anyway". You see, why I never really did mind the little things, shifts in the current status quo has made these little things into really big things.
I suppose the recession is going to last longer than we could hope, but in a somewhat strange twist, I feel that I can now manage my money better, and probably spending on bigger things like a trip to the beach or a long overdue vacation. Strange as that may sound, it seems that a wake up call was all I needed to adjust to the way the almighty monies is making the world go round.
So what does this have to do with Bridget Fonda's obscure flick? Well, there's a good reason why some films just suck, it's because of asinine lines like that one above. Which pretty much means, don't listen to it, and don't ascribe to such a mantra so wholeheartedly. Because it will just end in disaster and have you fading to obscuritySo while Bridget Fonda, my dear Bridget, will always one of my favorite faces in Hollywood, a femme fatale and uber sexy assassin she is not. OK maybe it could work, but certainly not with forgettable and non-sensical dialog like that.
P.S. Yes it made 30 million in the box office, but I bet you haven't heard of it or don't remember it if I didn't mention it now eh?
Of course, the little things, or the details, are often best left ignored if you're the gung-ho devil-may-care maverick who prefers extreme spontaneity rather than well-planned and calculated decisions. But at the end of the day a certain balance must be struck or one will find themselves, as U2's Bono puts it, Stuck In A Moment that you can't get out of. As the global economy enters into a period of recession, the little things all of a sudden being to matter and prove to be worth caring about.
No we're not talking about the recent layoffs major companies have made, such things are pretty obvious and a man or woman's livelihood are hardly one would call details considering it's essentiality to survival. We're talking about the miniscule little practices or expendetures that prior to the economic "crisis", were things that we hardly take notice of.
Before, I wouldn't have to worry about making it to the next payday since I believe I make enough to provide for day to day needs and a few vices here and there. Two books a month, a gadget from time to time or a big time gift to potential prospect were items or purchases that I could afford to just wave dismisally as nothing. Nowadays however, despite the gas prices being the lowest it has been in years, I have to stop and think about if I have enough to make it to the next payday. All of a sudden I get thoughts like "that book will just have to wait" or "I don't really need that gadget" or even "She's not really my type anyway". You see, why I never really did mind the little things, shifts in the current status quo has made these little things into really big things.
I suppose the recession is going to last longer than we could hope, but in a somewhat strange twist, I feel that I can now manage my money better, and probably spending on bigger things like a trip to the beach or a long overdue vacation. Strange as that may sound, it seems that a wake up call was all I needed to adjust to the way the almighty monies is making the world go round.
So what does this have to do with Bridget Fonda's obscure flick? Well, there's a good reason why some films just suck, it's because of asinine lines like that one above. Which pretty much means, don't listen to it, and don't ascribe to such a mantra so wholeheartedly. Because it will just end in disaster and have you fading to obscuritySo while Bridget Fonda, my dear Bridget, will always one of my favorite faces in Hollywood, a femme fatale and uber sexy assassin she is not. OK maybe it could work, but certainly not with forgettable and non-sensical dialog like that.
P.S. Yes it made 30 million in the box office, but I bet you haven't heard of it or don't remember it if I didn't mention it now eh?
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Day The Music Died
Americans refer to the Day the Music Died as the day that young and promising musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Booper J.P. Richardson's died from a tragic plane crash on February 3, 1965. This is largely due to Don McLean's popular hit, American Pie. Now many ask themselves why McLean came to that conclusion, he did admit to the reference, but never explained himself, prefering to let the listening public decide for themselves why it was the Day the Music Died. Regardless, it was a much-loved song and the reference was considered Gospel.
March 6 was perhaps what many Filipinos would consider as the local version of The Day the Music Died. Of course, the 6th of March did not include a plane crash, nor did it include more than one person, and this person was certainly not young, but he always showed promise. It was tragedy nonetheless, as Francis Magalona, The Man from Manila, succumbed to the complications brought about by Leukemia at March 6, 2009.
I would argue however, that characterizing Magalona's death as a day that Filipino music passed away would be more apt, partly of course as to avoid the risk of betraying other legends such as the Apo Hiking Society, Jet Pangan and the Dawn, the Eraserheads, Hotdog, VST & Co. or even Gary V. Still, the legacy that Magalona left not just to Philippine Rap and Hip Hop, but the music scene in general, is undeniable. It wasn't just about catchy beats and socially relevant lyrics, there was an idea there, an idea that hopefully will be carried by other artists now that the Filipino Master Rapper is finally resting in peace.
Magalona was a firm advocate of patriotism that few might find questionable. His medium was very western (rap and hip hop), and most of his verses and rhymes were in the country's adopted language– English. But that's perhaps what makes his ideals and vocation great. FrancisM thought us to love what is Pinoy, a word that in itself , was a hodgepodge of many faces, races, colors, hues, voices and choices. The pretentious historical elitist or Ye Olde Internet Troll would argue that this was nothing more than an image, a facade to sell colonial mentality under the guise of patriotism. Nay, I say, as behind the words, the music, and the imagery was more than just a Marketing strategy, it was an Idea, and idea that I believe captures what patriotism really is, at least in the Philippine context and in my humble opinion.
Despite the very Americanized medium, what was evident in his songs and lyrics is the Filipino flavor. No, it did not have the Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio vibe, an antiquated idea of the Filipino identity (though important to remember) but the contemporary vernacular that majority of his listeners are familiar with. It wasn't about loving what is just natively Filipino (hard as though to differentiate that from the many assimilations that the culture has undergone) but everything we see, past and present. The message was not to be tied down by the historical nuances, the zealous hypernationalist sentiment that bordered on xenophobia, nor was it the backwards bariotic approach of Philippine high art. Rather, it spoke of what is in front of us right now. It told us that this is the modern Pilipinas, that despite the diversity and borrowed colloquialisms, the spirit is still distinctively rooted to this country and its people.
Was he a hero? Certainly not. He was a man with an idea, and a good one at that. Are we overrating him now cause he recently passed away? There's a danger of going down that path, but let the would-be afficionados talk, let them debate and argue. At the end of the day, this Man from Manila, with his music, his beliefs, his life, will always remind me that patriotism is about loving your home in totallity, for what it was, is and will be. That while the Philippines is indeed a melting pot of many cultures, subcultures and demographics, we are all represented under the banner of 3 Stars and a Sun.
Goodnight music man, may your music and ideals live on forever.
March 6 was perhaps what many Filipinos would consider as the local version of The Day the Music Died. Of course, the 6th of March did not include a plane crash, nor did it include more than one person, and this person was certainly not young, but he always showed promise. It was tragedy nonetheless, as Francis Magalona, The Man from Manila, succumbed to the complications brought about by Leukemia at March 6, 2009.
I would argue however, that characterizing Magalona's death as a day that Filipino music passed away would be more apt, partly of course as to avoid the risk of betraying other legends such as the Apo Hiking Society, Jet Pangan and the Dawn, the Eraserheads, Hotdog, VST & Co. or even Gary V. Still, the legacy that Magalona left not just to Philippine Rap and Hip Hop, but the music scene in general, is undeniable. It wasn't just about catchy beats and socially relevant lyrics, there was an idea there, an idea that hopefully will be carried by other artists now that the Filipino Master Rapper is finally resting in peace.
Magalona was a firm advocate of patriotism that few might find questionable. His medium was very western (rap and hip hop), and most of his verses and rhymes were in the country's adopted language– English. But that's perhaps what makes his ideals and vocation great. FrancisM thought us to love what is Pinoy, a word that in itself , was a hodgepodge of many faces, races, colors, hues, voices and choices. The pretentious historical elitist or Ye Olde Internet Troll would argue that this was nothing more than an image, a facade to sell colonial mentality under the guise of patriotism. Nay, I say, as behind the words, the music, and the imagery was more than just a Marketing strategy, it was an Idea, and idea that I believe captures what patriotism really is, at least in the Philippine context and in my humble opinion.
Despite the very Americanized medium, what was evident in his songs and lyrics is the Filipino flavor. No, it did not have the Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio vibe, an antiquated idea of the Filipino identity (though important to remember) but the contemporary vernacular that majority of his listeners are familiar with. It wasn't about loving what is just natively Filipino (hard as though to differentiate that from the many assimilations that the culture has undergone) but everything we see, past and present. The message was not to be tied down by the historical nuances, the zealous hypernationalist sentiment that bordered on xenophobia, nor was it the backwards bariotic approach of Philippine high art. Rather, it spoke of what is in front of us right now. It told us that this is the modern Pilipinas, that despite the diversity and borrowed colloquialisms, the spirit is still distinctively rooted to this country and its people.
Was he a hero? Certainly not. He was a man with an idea, and a good one at that. Are we overrating him now cause he recently passed away? There's a danger of going down that path, but let the would-be afficionados talk, let them debate and argue. At the end of the day, this Man from Manila, with his music, his beliefs, his life, will always remind me that patriotism is about loving your home in totallity, for what it was, is and will be. That while the Philippines is indeed a melting pot of many cultures, subcultures and demographics, we are all represented under the banner of 3 Stars and a Sun.
Goodnight music man, may your music and ideals live on forever.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Friends
There is an inherent problem in this phenomena called friendship as it entails the need for a contradiction between the very nature and instinct of self-preservation versus the idea of co-dependency i.e. the need to protect and share with an individual or group of individuals. Granted, that such things are somewhat tied together. After all, there's always an ulterior motive, an agenda to forward, an urge to be satisfied. In doing so one actually forges friendships and acquaintances to forward the preservation of one's own person. The bonds of brotherhood/sisterhood or the love that may form from such dealings are perhaps mere positive externalities rather than the prize of such pursuits.
Trust is at the very core of this discussion. And truth is a lot harder to fathom than think. You can't simply go out and ask someone if they are a true friend, just as they can't do so to you. Interrogation, hanging out or bonding sessions can only reveal so much. Tragedy and turmoil can help clarify things but really, who wants to find out that way? In a time where communication has reached a point that two strangers a world apart can become good friends simply by being in front of digital machine, it is quite underwhelming that we, as a species cannot lay our entirety out in the open. We hide behind half-truths, deceptive lies and a facade that we may not even be aware of or deliberately weave.
Words, pictures, moments, touch. All do a great job reminding, maybe explaining, but they too, are susceptible to the complications. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, it's probably best to have your own little packet of grains of salt. But no, to do so would mean you're merely paranoid, or that you overthink these things. Doing the exact opposite would mean that you're either dumb as a brick or naive. Whichever one you are, you will find that in the end you're broken, and the only thing that's keeping yourself from the solution is the problem itself. The cause and the cure are one and the same, how delightfullly ironic.
Which brings us to the question, and I'm quite certain many have asked themselves this before, who are your true friends? As often as that is asked, I find myself bringing up a follow-up: "is there even such a thing?" Cynical, jaded, or paranoid as it may sound that query is interesting considering the above statement. The answer is quite simple really: who cares? Whether or not you have people who surround you, a circle that you can say are truly there for you when it counts, the alternative–loneliness–is certainly worse. Besides, I've found out the answer long ago, some four years in the past, and the answer is yes, there is such a thing. As for you, my dear reader, you get the delightful little task of finding out on your own, stumbling along the way. I assure you that there will be many tears along the way, but again, the alternative, being alone and uncared for, even superficially is far, far worse.
Trust is at the very core of this discussion. And truth is a lot harder to fathom than think. You can't simply go out and ask someone if they are a true friend, just as they can't do so to you. Interrogation, hanging out or bonding sessions can only reveal so much. Tragedy and turmoil can help clarify things but really, who wants to find out that way? In a time where communication has reached a point that two strangers a world apart can become good friends simply by being in front of digital machine, it is quite underwhelming that we, as a species cannot lay our entirety out in the open. We hide behind half-truths, deceptive lies and a facade that we may not even be aware of or deliberately weave.
Words, pictures, moments, touch. All do a great job reminding, maybe explaining, but they too, are susceptible to the complications. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, it's probably best to have your own little packet of grains of salt. But no, to do so would mean you're merely paranoid, or that you overthink these things. Doing the exact opposite would mean that you're either dumb as a brick or naive. Whichever one you are, you will find that in the end you're broken, and the only thing that's keeping yourself from the solution is the problem itself. The cause and the cure are one and the same, how delightfullly ironic.
Which brings us to the question, and I'm quite certain many have asked themselves this before, who are your true friends? As often as that is asked, I find myself bringing up a follow-up: "is there even such a thing?" Cynical, jaded, or paranoid as it may sound that query is interesting considering the above statement. The answer is quite simple really: who cares? Whether or not you have people who surround you, a circle that you can say are truly there for you when it counts, the alternative–loneliness–is certainly worse. Besides, I've found out the answer long ago, some four years in the past, and the answer is yes, there is such a thing. As for you, my dear reader, you get the delightful little task of finding out on your own, stumbling along the way. I assure you that there will be many tears along the way, but again, the alternative, being alone and uncared for, even superficially is far, far worse.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Fear and Loathing in 2009
First, Happy New Year... to the poor souls who, for some unexplained reason, continue to read this blog. Now that that's out of the way...
As we bid adieu and good riddance to 2008, a year that personally is just another one in the long line of bad years, we now look to 2009 with baited breath if not a healthy dose of cynicism. Much like 07 and 08, the new year begs plenty of questions that, for some apparent reason pop up whenever the last number of the year changes. This leads me to inquire as to just what is it with people and realizing life questions based on dates?
For better or worse, 2009 is finally upon us. Which of course gives us the illusion of renewed hope and paper-thin vigor that we hope to see us through a chance for change. But for me at least, 2009 is more of a period that brings nothing but fear and loathing.
Fear, for the fact that was lies ahead I am pretty sure will be challenging if not depressing. Things don't just magically change or are we subjected a clean slate, a fresh start, a new dawn or what-have-you. In this case, it is the fear that my overly cynical views have jaded me to the point of numbness or better yet, blindness - Never realizing what good is in front of me and instead, go after that which can never be, or something overly dramatic and deep like that.
Loathing, for the mistakes that will eventually come back to haunt us in the new year. Which probably brings us back to fear, for the consequences are slowly but surely becoming a reality. In 2008, I was an idiot that decided I knew better yet knew pretty much nothing. I took the moral high road of nothing and ended up with failed aspirations, regrets and closed doors.
And yet despite all the negativity, I feel somewhat renewed. I know fully well that this year can and will get better, and not because I believe it can't get any worse, but because I know that I am wiser and stronger.
2009 will be coming like a bitch on a vendetta, but I can't help but smile. For better or worse, I relish the idea that at this year will be more interesting and amusing than the previous one with utmost certainty.
As we bid adieu and good riddance to 2008, a year that personally is just another one in the long line of bad years, we now look to 2009 with baited breath if not a healthy dose of cynicism. Much like 07 and 08, the new year begs plenty of questions that, for some apparent reason pop up whenever the last number of the year changes. This leads me to inquire as to just what is it with people and realizing life questions based on dates?
For better or worse, 2009 is finally upon us. Which of course gives us the illusion of renewed hope and paper-thin vigor that we hope to see us through a chance for change. But for me at least, 2009 is more of a period that brings nothing but fear and loathing.
Fear, for the fact that was lies ahead I am pretty sure will be challenging if not depressing. Things don't just magically change or are we subjected a clean slate, a fresh start, a new dawn or what-have-you. In this case, it is the fear that my overly cynical views have jaded me to the point of numbness or better yet, blindness - Never realizing what good is in front of me and instead, go after that which can never be, or something overly dramatic and deep like that.
Loathing, for the mistakes that will eventually come back to haunt us in the new year. Which probably brings us back to fear, for the consequences are slowly but surely becoming a reality. In 2008, I was an idiot that decided I knew better yet knew pretty much nothing. I took the moral high road of nothing and ended up with failed aspirations, regrets and closed doors.
And yet despite all the negativity, I feel somewhat renewed. I know fully well that this year can and will get better, and not because I believe it can't get any worse, but because I know that I am wiser and stronger.
2009 will be coming like a bitch on a vendetta, but I can't help but smile. For better or worse, I relish the idea that at this year will be more interesting and amusing than the previous one with utmost certainty.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
When Wrong Is Right
There are moments wherein we are forced to make a decision, the popular one and the right one. These situations may or may not be a matter of life or death, but the impact towards our lives are just as crucial. In these moments, something has to give, and mostly the true altruist is given the short end of the stick.
I was never an altruist, and I have yet to meet a sincere one, or at least a person who picks the right decision rather than the popular one, no matter the cost. I have always thought that I would be that person, the one who wouldn't care about personal happiness or progress and sacrifice even the dearest of relationships just to do what is right and what is just. The one who, despite the hopelessness, despite the neglect, would still care.
When it comes right down to it, if you truly care, unselfishly and sincerely, you would go with the right decision. People may question your intent, your agenda, but can you really live with yourself if you allow this tomfoolery and injustice to continue? Can you truly sleep at night that these very people who will question you know just as well as you do and do nothing? Will you truly sacrifice what you hold dear to protect/save/enlighten this person?
When Wrong is Right, nobody wins. And the pain caused, the tears shed, and at times, the blood spilt, are on your hands as well, just as everybody's.
I was never an altruist, and I have yet to meet a sincere one, or at least a person who picks the right decision rather than the popular one, no matter the cost. I have always thought that I would be that person, the one who wouldn't care about personal happiness or progress and sacrifice even the dearest of relationships just to do what is right and what is just. The one who, despite the hopelessness, despite the neglect, would still care.
When it comes right down to it, if you truly care, unselfishly and sincerely, you would go with the right decision. People may question your intent, your agenda, but can you really live with yourself if you allow this tomfoolery and injustice to continue? Can you truly sleep at night that these very people who will question you know just as well as you do and do nothing? Will you truly sacrifice what you hold dear to protect/save/enlighten this person?
When Wrong is Right, nobody wins. And the pain caused, the tears shed, and at times, the blood spilt, are on your hands as well, just as everybody's.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Let It All Out (I'm An Idiot)
Idiots will be idiots. You can try and show them the light but ultimately, that's all you can do. Show. Their decision to become part of the ignorant, the clueless and borderline stupid is their choice and their's alone. Don't beat yourself up about it, you tried but really, is it even any of your business? You've been shut out because you thought there was more to this idiot, too late, you say to yourself, and you find yourself in the exact place you were before you met, utterly helpless, angry at the how others who have more right to intervene than you sit by and let the idiot make a fool of herself all over again. Yet the guilt still binds you, and you can do nothing but keep it inside and observe, a painful reminder of your failure as someone who was once favored and trusted.
But what of hubris? What if you totally got it wrong? You were never shunned, simply inadvertedly ignored. But isn't that more painful, to be treated as an afterthought? And do you truly know the entire story? Perhaps you missed something, your senses have been wrong before and your estimations have currently been suspect. Maybe just maybe, you're lying to yourself, fabricating this notion that somehow this person needs you, when in truth and reality you are the last thing she needs. You ponder on a final confrontation, but you feel that it will never lead to anything, just like every other endeavor you've been through this year. Either way, one path is clear... walk away, yet you keep looking back.
A closed door or window means another one has opened or will open eventually. Exploration of new horizons are on the way, yet fear clings to you. You're afraid that once again you will screw it up. You seek something meaningful but find yourself reluctant to take the jump, because you know very simply that idiots will always be idiots, and you're one.
But what of hubris? What if you totally got it wrong? You were never shunned, simply inadvertedly ignored. But isn't that more painful, to be treated as an afterthought? And do you truly know the entire story? Perhaps you missed something, your senses have been wrong before and your estimations have currently been suspect. Maybe just maybe, you're lying to yourself, fabricating this notion that somehow this person needs you, when in truth and reality you are the last thing she needs. You ponder on a final confrontation, but you feel that it will never lead to anything, just like every other endeavor you've been through this year. Either way, one path is clear... walk away, yet you keep looking back.
A closed door or window means another one has opened or will open eventually. Exploration of new horizons are on the way, yet fear clings to you. You're afraid that once again you will screw it up. You seek something meaningful but find yourself reluctant to take the jump, because you know very simply that idiots will always be idiots, and you're one.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Like Clockwork
We all have our routines. Rituals that, despite their repetitive nature, we feel at ease with. We may break from such behavioral patterns but we can just as easily get back into that fail safe practice. It's therapeutic in a sense, allowing us a little bit of control a world where chance is a cruel mother that just as soon nurture you and kick you to the curb when you least expect it.
In our own little world of repetition, we feel secure. A domain wherein our own idea of order is constant, we tuck away worries in preparing for the day. Consistency, that would've been nice if it lived up to its meaning.
Things change. That cannot be, ironic as it may sound, changed. Nothing is ever constant, and like any good thing, routines come to an end. Routines involve people and objects. People go away, and objects eventually deteriorate. Sure both are replaceable to some extent, but sometimes one cannot bring back what was lost.
When faced with the habit of initiating this routine, we find ourselves pausing, simply because what was once there is no more. Losing a long held treasure like a car, a house or maybe even pen can be inexplicably difficult to absorb, even worse is when a person is the one absent. The usual good mornings to the friendly doorman, the long chats with a dear friend... a kiss goodbye from a loved one... these are perhaps the most devastating kind of loss, because it is when the routine is broken due to their absence that the loss truly sinks in.
And you realize with finality, that things will never be the same...
In our own little world of repetition, we feel secure. A domain wherein our own idea of order is constant, we tuck away worries in preparing for the day. Consistency, that would've been nice if it lived up to its meaning.
Things change. That cannot be, ironic as it may sound, changed. Nothing is ever constant, and like any good thing, routines come to an end. Routines involve people and objects. People go away, and objects eventually deteriorate. Sure both are replaceable to some extent, but sometimes one cannot bring back what was lost.
When faced with the habit of initiating this routine, we find ourselves pausing, simply because what was once there is no more. Losing a long held treasure like a car, a house or maybe even pen can be inexplicably difficult to absorb, even worse is when a person is the one absent. The usual good mornings to the friendly doorman, the long chats with a dear friend... a kiss goodbye from a loved one... these are perhaps the most devastating kind of loss, because it is when the routine is broken due to their absence that the loss truly sinks in.
And you realize with finality, that things will never be the same...
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Players Have Changed, But the Game Remains the Same
Obamania is currently sweeping the globe, a euphoric wave ripe with renewed hope, vigor and a taste of anxiety for things to come. The world bore witness as history was made, the first ever African-American President of United States of America. Pundits and armchair analysts (myself included) would opine about how this victory is for everyone, how the Afro-American Barack Obama took over the White House, perhaps erasing humanity's hate and bias towards our ethnic differences. Rejoice world, for the Black Messiah cometh.
Really?
You either die a hero or live long enough to be the villain. Harvey Dent couldn't have come up with a better way to summarize this phenomenon. Already the detractors, spin doctors and self-absorbed intellectuals are starting the engines to their propaganda of hate and vitriol. Ironically, Obama and any democratic state or nation would have no choice but favor such, it is in line with the principles that they claim to champion. The opposition of any government does serve as the catalyst for Obama's favorite buzz word: Change.
But is there truly change? Besides the superficial of course. The players have one goal and that is to wield power. For whatever their motivations, they find themselves building alliances, making enemies, and dancing to the beat of trends of the times. Platforms are made, skeletons dragged out of the closet, truths embellished. It's probably the dirtiest game there is, this game of Politicking. The depths have gone to a lot of highs, but more often than not they are shadowed by the lows.
In many ways, Obama was the perfect candidate. Articulate, relatively younger, and he was black. The scene was looking more and more like a Spike Lee movie minus the tragedy. The rich old white man is the villain and against great odds, the black man won. Still, with the previous Administrations' blunders, even if Obama wasn't Afro-American, victory would've been his IMHO.
The problem lies with how the world views this victory. We celebrate, but do we really know how the cards are spread? Do we know why this Obama's victory is good for everyone even though he represents one country? Or is this merely the sheep going with the flock?
"Black President. That's so cool right? I mean, I totally feel free since he represents breaking away from cultural indiference."
Go to hell bandwagonner, understand that this game is played differently than you think. Understand that behind that black man is still the issues and ideologies of those who believe that they know better.
For centuries the battle wasn't about race, culture, or whatehaveyous, they are mere flavors. The true struggle is going against our very nature of self-destruction and selfishness, to be united or cohabit to survive. It's a matter of balance between individual and the collective. Republicans want more control, Democrats want more privacy. The Easter dictatorships want unity/obedience, while the Western Liberals want their voices to be heard. Really, it's a matter of giving up individuality for a whole (not the greater good, because such things are relative depending on who you're talking too and what time it is). Whoever weilds the power gets to influence the scales to their favor.
Will Obama's turn at these scales bring prosperity and peace? Or will it simply be another replay of days past? Who knows? More importantly, who cares and why?
Really?
You either die a hero or live long enough to be the villain. Harvey Dent couldn't have come up with a better way to summarize this phenomenon. Already the detractors, spin doctors and self-absorbed intellectuals are starting the engines to their propaganda of hate and vitriol. Ironically, Obama and any democratic state or nation would have no choice but favor such, it is in line with the principles that they claim to champion. The opposition of any government does serve as the catalyst for Obama's favorite buzz word: Change.
But is there truly change? Besides the superficial of course. The players have one goal and that is to wield power. For whatever their motivations, they find themselves building alliances, making enemies, and dancing to the beat of trends of the times. Platforms are made, skeletons dragged out of the closet, truths embellished. It's probably the dirtiest game there is, this game of Politicking. The depths have gone to a lot of highs, but more often than not they are shadowed by the lows.
In many ways, Obama was the perfect candidate. Articulate, relatively younger, and he was black. The scene was looking more and more like a Spike Lee movie minus the tragedy. The rich old white man is the villain and against great odds, the black man won. Still, with the previous Administrations' blunders, even if Obama wasn't Afro-American, victory would've been his IMHO.
The problem lies with how the world views this victory. We celebrate, but do we really know how the cards are spread? Do we know why this Obama's victory is good for everyone even though he represents one country? Or is this merely the sheep going with the flock?
"Black President. That's so cool right? I mean, I totally feel free since he represents breaking away from cultural indiference."
Go to hell bandwagonner, understand that this game is played differently than you think. Understand that behind that black man is still the issues and ideologies of those who believe that they know better.
For centuries the battle wasn't about race, culture, or whatehaveyous, they are mere flavors. The true struggle is going against our very nature of self-destruction and selfishness, to be united or cohabit to survive. It's a matter of balance between individual and the collective. Republicans want more control, Democrats want more privacy. The Easter dictatorships want unity/obedience, while the Western Liberals want their voices to be heard. Really, it's a matter of giving up individuality for a whole (not the greater good, because such things are relative depending on who you're talking too and what time it is). Whoever weilds the power gets to influence the scales to their favor.
Will Obama's turn at these scales bring prosperity and peace? Or will it simply be another replay of days past? Who knows? More importantly, who cares and why?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Moments
Life is defined by moments. Every waking hour of existence is made up of moments with other people. Some we remember, some we forget. Sometimes these moments are significant, no matter how subtle or petty they may be. The simple things, as they are, often fall into the former. A simple smile from a child, an infant gripping tightly around your fingers or those awkward run-ins with the crush - these are the moments that mark us, that we cherish or look to when defining our perception of life.
"It's either you define the moment, or the moment defines you," so says the Roy McAvoy, Kevin Costner's character for the golf-themed romantic comedy Tin Cup. Delivered in true dead pan Costner fashion, the line is laced with the arrogance of a true slacker and dreamer who's hubris is realizing his mortal limitations. Moments can be defined yes, but we can, at the very best, influence them, not control them entirely.
Life is short, but a lot can happen in a short span of time. You can't hope to recall them all, but at the very least, you can recall the moments that made you do the way you are. Significance is relative, what may have been a small comment on your part may have been an Earth-shattering revelation to others.
For whatever moments that we encounter and remember, a degree of appreciation is needed. After all, if you can't recall the significant moments you've had in life, or with others, then just what kind of life have you lived?
"It's either you define the moment, or the moment defines you," so says the Roy McAvoy, Kevin Costner's character for the golf-themed romantic comedy Tin Cup. Delivered in true dead pan Costner fashion, the line is laced with the arrogance of a true slacker and dreamer who's hubris is realizing his mortal limitations. Moments can be defined yes, but we can, at the very best, influence them, not control them entirely.
Life is short, but a lot can happen in a short span of time. You can't hope to recall them all, but at the very least, you can recall the moments that made you do the way you are. Significance is relative, what may have been a small comment on your part may have been an Earth-shattering revelation to others.
For whatever moments that we encounter and remember, a degree of appreciation is needed. After all, if you can't recall the significant moments you've had in life, or with others, then just what kind of life have you lived?
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