Fantasies of Privacy

Have I ever thought that I am evil and I want too much?

No, I am going to make a man pork chops and the chops will be

a cinema of compassion. Then what of that piggy?

I am writing no promises on any walls, I want to be

beholden to no creature, responsible for no breed, I am

a number and I did not ask to be bred, I never said

dream a little dream of me that was your very own volition.

I do not know the you of whom I speak. But I have an asshole

that must be kept clean and it is enough of a punishment.

- Melissa Broder 

Oh. I think I get now why I procrastinate. I have difficulty letting go. When the work is done, I have to release it and it's out there, no longer mine, open to the universe to do what it wants to it. Deeeymsun, I'm a selfish control freak :/

There is No Word

There isn’t a word for walking out of the grocery store
with a gallon jug of milk in a plastic sack
that should have been bagged in double layers

—so that before you are even out the door
you feel the weight of the jug dragging
the bag down, stretching the thin

plastic handles longer and longer
and you know it’s only a matter of time until
bottom suddenly splits.

There is no single, unimpeachable word
for that vague sensation of something
moving away from you

as it exceeds its elastic capacity
—which is too bad, because that is the word
I would like to use to describe standing on the street

chatting with an old friend
as the awareness grows in me that he is
no longer a friend, but only an acquaintance,

a person with whom I never made the effort—
until this moment, when as we say goodbye
I think we share a feeling of relief,

a recognition that we have reached
the end of a pretense,
though to tell the truth

what I already am thinking about
is my gratitude for language—
how it will stretch just so much and no farther;

how there are some holes it will not cover up;
how it will move, if not inside, then
around the circumference of almost anything—

how, over the years, it has given me
back all the hours and days, all the
plodding love and faith, all the

misunderstandings and secrets
I have willingly poured into it.

—Tony Hoagland

On being less orderly: Brief reflections on the death of Sec. Jesse Robredo

I don't know why I am affected so much by Sec. Jesse Robredo's plane crash and death. I do not know the man personally and have not followed his career save for a few news features and articles. But he seemed to me, like to almost everyone else, as a down-to-earth person who means well.

My friends have insisted, amid my defense, that I am not the best test of character. However I think Robredo's net goodness goes beyond the normal human being's and that it is not a mistake that he is respected and wished well in his untimely death.

I admire him not only for his gentle and humble demeanor but also for his work. He was on the right track. His achievements and legacy as a public servant got me thinking, over the last 3 days of their searching for him around the coast of Masbate, about how we need more people like him to take up influential roles in nation building, whether in government, civil society, or the private sector. Our country lost a good man and I hope that his life and death inspires many to follow in his footsteps and fill leadership gaps.

I recently listened to a podcast once about planning your funeral and which suggests hiring a physicist to speak at your wake to explain that, scientifically, death is not a curtailing of life, but is a natural occurrence which releases life from our physical bodies into other forms. Energies of people who have passed on are no longer housed in flesh-and-blood cages but are still here in this earth, in and around us, perhaps very much like the Beatles song.  If this were true, which I am wont to believe, I should not worry too much. The Secretary's energy is sure to be felt and picked up by people who will be called to do as he has done.

Six Songs of Me

So The Guardian recently launched a project about Music and its effect on our lives. 

In Six Songs of Me, they asked people to key in basic personal information such as age, sex, occupation, etc. and answers to the following questions: 

1.) What was the first song you ever bought? 
2.) What song always gets you dancing? 
3.) What song takes you back to your childhood? 
4.) What is your perfect love song? 
5.) What song would you want at your funeral? 
6.) Encore: One last song that makes you, you. 

I keyed in my answers but it was too bad they were tied-up with spotify and spotify did not have Filipino songs in their library. So even if my answers can't be part of the social survey, it was fun exercise which got me thinking about my six song and the memories associated with them. NPR ran an article which elicited thousands of responses about other people's six songs here and here. The results of the survey are still being consolidated 

So what do the soundtracks to my life tell me about either music or myself? Musicologist Eric Clarke writes, "Well, they bring home that strange combination of serendipity and revelation that so often characterises our encounters with music: those BBC advertisements for the proms in which a passerby steps into an invisible circle of sound and is suddenly transfixed and transported tap into a particular preoccupation with 'the secret power of music' which is both profoundly ideological and all too real." 

Hmmm. That didn't clear things up. It's still pretty conceptual to me. I do know, though, that music for me has always been a companion of sorts. Like a friend who cheers you up or sympathizes with you. Someone who jolts you out of stupor or calms you down. A provocateur or peacemaker. Or just someone you like to hang around with. 

I'm the kind of person who almost always has background music on, except when I'm writing. It was weird to discover that not everybody was like that. During a trip to the province, I hitched a ride with my aunt and, for 10 hours, the radio was turned off. I didn't have a radio/mp3-enabled phone with me then.  That was the only time I profoundly missed music. I hope that never happens again under any circumstance. 


My Answers: 

First song ever bought (...with my own money, that is. It was probably Joey Albert or Lea Salonga I first asked my mom to buy for me. Haha. I also had FrancisM and After Image tapes before this): 

Song that gets me dancing:

Song that takes me back to my childhood:

Perfect love song: 

Song for my funeral: 

Song that makes me, me: 

And just like that, the sun comes streaming down on us. I am directly washed over by the afternoon light when I am sitting at my office desk. Usually, I draw the blinds down but today, I was missing the warmth so I left them up. It was weird, though, that even if I was sunbathing for more than an hour, I still felt cold. Maybe it was the AC, I thought as I put my shawl on. But later when I checked, it was just set around 24 degrees Celcius. I am also not sick today.

Just like that, I am where I was exactly 4 years ago. I’m trying not to panic but today, I learned something which made me feel something which subsequently made me feel really angry at myself for allowing myself to feel that something. I thought I had immunity over the disease. But this, although showing similar symptoms, is another strain altogether. For one, although the discomfort is more bearable, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a protracted battle. I hope they don’t tell me it will be a condition I would have to live with for the rest of my life. I’d rather be terminally ill. Cut me with death’s scythe. Make it swift.

Of course I’m being overly dramatic. It’s not always bad. In fact, it’s occasionally good but mostly potentially better. And that’s the thing. Hope is more powerful than fear. Flickering lights are more dizzying than the constant dark.

daw.

Storifying

MMJ180 [Video]

The Young Ones of Luneta from Diana Moraleda on Vimeo.

MMJ 180 [Essay]

Engaging in Social Media: The News Organizations' Social Imperative

What the...

My ACFJ classmates are so kick-ass I wonder why I am in the same group of around 12.We have a photojournalists, writers, radio show hosts, TV directors, advertising creatives from countries like Japan, Tibet, Maldives, India, Myanmar, Singapore, Mongolia, China who have worked in the greater parts of America, Europe and Asia.. They're all so accomplished in terms of getting their work out there: Time, Newsweek, The New York Times, New York Magazine, Forbes, Chicago Tribune, business newspapers in their own respective countries, famous radio shows, clients such as Nike, MSNBC etc. Many have won awards and prestigious fellowships. Some are currently chasing stories in countries of great civil unrest at this moment and communicate with us through their mobiles. I feel like I am just the token development worker. Still, I'm excited to start on-campus classes. I think this is what I need to step up! (deep breaths)

Blithe

Wow, it's been so long since I last posted here. There's a new blogger dashboard. It looks cleaner. I like it.

So many things happening all at once. Three close friends just got hitched; I'm given more and more responsibilities in the office; which I like since that means they respect and trust my work; I just got accepted in a diploma multimedia journalism course in a reputable Asian institution; I'm really getting into more personal interactions with friends and family. The general feeling is good, warm, light--buoyant even. I began being aware of this state a couple of months ago and it occurred to me that the feeling was so weird. I'm not used to this kind of lightness. I panicked. It is only when a lot of baggage is lifted from you that you begin to feel so free there's no reason not to be able to do the things you want to do anymore. It's like my life opened in front of me so vastly it was scary. I couldn't deal with the vacant feeling. In my gut i was thinking, okay, what now? Needless to say, it was another big panic attack and I grew nauseous and I wanted to vomit and spit out everything from my gut. 

But I got used to the state, slowly. I got so used to it that even if I was on the verge of feeling depressed, my optimistic side automatically kicked in without being summoned. Like last Friday night. I was working overtime with my team in the office but looking forward to seeing my college friends who were having dinner in a nearby apartment. I thought since we were working on the documents for 2 days now, there was a chance we would finish by 9 pm. Unfortunately, some component reports came late so we had to just take them and work on them as best and as quickly as we could.  I was in my full working mode and when I am in that mode I am like a possessed animal. My officemates could not even bother me with dinner. They went down to eat while I ratted away really wanting to finish by 9...10....10:30...anytime earlier than 12 which would give me enough time to see my college friends even for just 30 minutes. It did not happen. I finished by 11.30 which is about the same time my friends went home. I had just received word about my ACFJ acceptance  that same evening, I was happy to get the work done, but I was so tired and a bit lonely that I did not see my friends. God, I wanted even just a bottle of beer and a smoke with someone. I wanted to cry. 

Aside from when I witness something totally amazing and surreal that I'd like to hug someone, when I am physically and mentally tired is my moment of weakness. It is these times of depletion that I remember things and people I shouldn't already. I grabbed some food at McDonalds and smoked at the building steps after. It was already past midnight and the streets were empty save for a few call center agents who were smoking in a parking space across. I was in one of those rare times that I wished someone would pick me up because they wanted to, because they cared. It was those times that I thought of someone I shouldn't be thinking of anymore because that's exactly what he used to do and would be doing had life turned out differently.  

I hailed a cab and texted a friend. I found comfort in telling her my ACFJ news and in her elated response. When I got home, I washed up and crept in bed. The next day at 7 am, I was on my way to one of my closest friend's wedding in Subic with Lai and my former workmates. It was a beautiful day. I truly enjoyed it. It felt like the last night did not happen. 

New Girl's Nick Miller is so funny in an annoying way. Among the characters in the series, I have most affinity to him. He's the roommate who's near rock bottom--dumped by girlfriend, quit law school, doesn't use his phone too much, bartends to bide time, exists with the bare minimum, has no health insurance, has let go of himself to the detriment of his physique, dances naked in front of the mirror before a date to convince himself that he still looks good, is cranky all the time, and yet insists that he's just fine. In season 17 when he gets confronted by the luxury that Dermot Mulroney's character Russel exudes, he loses it. Hilarious stuff! 

Here are some of the funniest quotes:  

While Jess was accepting Russell's offer of borrowing his car after hers needed to be towed: 

Nick:"We are the 99%, Jess!!!" 

While coaching Jess what to say when she returns Russell's car: 

Nick: “March into his office and say, ‘Hey Mr. Fancyman, you can’t tell me what to do! Your money doesn’t own me!’ And then throw away your phone!”

Jess: “Yeah! I’m gonna throw my phone into the fiery chasm where he keeps his poor people!”
Nick: “Actually, scratch that. My mom’s got your number in case of emergency.”


While inside Russell's house in their attempt to occupy it: 

“For starters, look at this [house]. I’m betting at one point there was a moat. Rich boy!”

“A kitchen island? Be a man! Let your counter attach to itself.”
“I want to sit at that desk and veto a law. When I put my hand on this desk, I feel sexually proficient for the first time in my life.”
“Do you smell that? It smells like leather and Teddy Roosevelt and wistfulness.”
“It feels really good in my hand. Is it possible to be sexually attracted to an object?” (regarding the phone Russell gave him)
[To a wooden duck] “I want to kill you… because I respect you.  [To Jess] I think I understand hunting!”
“I don’t know why I put the sweater on. I just came in here and it smelled likeShakespeare – if Shakespeare were a damn cowboy — and a hawk’s nest and boat fuel and cigars and bourbon. Man stuff!”
“He smells like strong coffee and going to see a man about a horse.” 

But the best line for me was something like "You've got to give him a chance, Jess. Even I am in love with him!"  

What have i just done?

I just signed myself up for suicide. I'm climbing Mt. Apo in November just because Air Asia is giving away flights to Davao for free. That means I have to do Pulag in April for a pre-climb climb or whatever you call those. Carry lang. I just have to be more serious with my belly-busting routine. I've been eating less and more wisely for two months now, I think so that's good. I just have to stick with the exercise part. Still, I'm getting nauseous just thinking of both mountains.

Number 1 for Fun!

At first I was like, "Meh." And then I thought, it's just awkwardly long. But now I am sold. When I think about it, everything is indeed more fun here.<3

*spin-off campaign by Roland Benzon, photo by Jay Jallorina