It’s hard, really hard, not to be taken seriously when you’re in earnest.

It’s even harder to constantly have to prove yourself to people just so they start taking you seriously and follow what you say.

But it’s easy, really easy, to pretend to be okay. It’s so much easier to pretend to be ditsy and fun and temporarily forget all the shit you’re going through.

It’s even easier to pretend not to have problems and make people think that you’re happy–that your problems are just stupid rants that are shallow and stupid compared to theirs.

But it’s easiest to listen to other  people who tell you about their own shit but never listen to yours. It’s easiest to pretend you care when really, the only reason you’re doing that is to temporarily escape from the current shit hole you’re buried in so you can think that people have lives worse off than yours is.

But you know what’s hardest?

Breaking this stupid cycle

In all honesty, I have never seen the lure of patriotism, of nationality. I don’t see how people can say that the Philippines is worth dying for, that to die for kalayaan, for freedom of the motherland, is the greatest honor of all. What is the good of dying for your country when it doesn’t really effect sustainable change? What makes the Filipino worth dying for? Why die for the Filipino at all? What Filipino are we talking about?

Rizal wrote in El Filibusterismo that it is for the future generations that they die, so we may experience freedom and equality. But now, I think, the issue here is that people don’t care anymore about ideals of freedom and democracy because it has become irrelevant.

Hence the question, what is kalayaan, really? The freedom to choose who will run our country (to the ground)? People just want to survive. Not fight for idealistic notions, but for survival, to put food on the table, to endure administration after administration, to live as well as they are able to.

It is said that Ninoy’s death made people want to move against Marcos–spurred them to enough anger and indignation to fight for the rights long denied to them–similar to how Rizal’s death spurred the Spanish revolution. This illustrates that Filipinos generally endure because their priority really is to survive–maybe because we already have a sense of hopelessness, of knowing nothing can really change.

What then does that say about us? That we need a powerful charismatic leader, an equally powerful common enemy, and an extreme, worst-case scenario we can fight so we can achieve the sustainable, ultimate change that, lets face it, hasn’t happened to our country, ever?

I think we depend too much on a leader to change everything, and we all know that hasn’t gotten us anywhere. It is like what happened to Cory: she restored democracy by running for president and ousting a delusional dictator and his beauty-obsessed, equally delusional wife. It was a pretty big thing; we took pride in our country and were proud to be Filipinos and examples to the world. But then what happened? People expected too much; they thought she would magically solve all the country’s problems. But that, even with millions of rosaries, is impossible. So we were disillusioned.

And there, I think, lies the problem. It is easy to blame those in power for the failure in everything–and that isn’t unmerited. They are after all, at fault like, 99% of the time. But the point, I think, is that we need to gain a national identity apart from a national leader. The question really is, What Filipino? What is a Filipino? Who is a Filipino? If we think of a Filipino in terms of our government, then really, who would want to take pride in THAT?

Ideals of freedom and democracy can only go so far. Nationality and patriotism can only go so far–as far as a Manny Pacquiao fight, usually. The current show of nationalism this week is due in part again to the hugeness of the what happened, to the worst-case scenario-ness of it.

So where does that bring us? A paradigm shift?

It’s my immersion on Friday.

I’m really not expecting any I’m-a-rich-person-get-me-out-of-here moments. OSCI is just exaggerating. Like, was the kwento about the cooked worm dish really necessary, OSCI-person-with-a-weird-name? (Honestly, why do all formators have names that are so wtf?) I’m pretty sure those farmers aren’t idiots.

OSCI should stop scaring us about immersion with worst-case scenarios. It’s annoying and it puts further unnecessary emphasis on how different these people are from us when really, the point of immersion is to see that people are still people apart from class and lifestyle, and to see that there is a whole different world out there outside of our usual zone. And it doesn’t have to be negative. This different world doesn’t have to mean “poor places”. And it certainly doesn’t have to connote that our zone is better.

Or does it? I don’t like how OSCI packages immersion. It’s as if they are acknowledging that we are better then the people we are immersing with through their stupid “horror stories” and “what-not-to-dos”. It’s as if the point of immersion is to realize how “lucky we are” compared to everyone else. OSCI treats us like condescending rich kids, and since they do, we feel as if that’s what immersion is about: privileged people condescending to go to a poor, god-forsaken place to get an epiphany of how lucky they are and how they should stop complaining.

I agree with my Th141 teacher Zieslsberger when he absolutely hates when people say “less fortunate”. It’s as if we are the center of the world and everyone else doesn’t matter, as if our world is the best place to live in and that we have to experience living in a “dirty, poverty-ridden world” to appreciate that.

I’m not going to lie and say that I’m welcoming immersion with love. No, I think it’s a hassle and that OSCI asks waaaay too much, with recollections, masses, (and asking us to call them by their weird nicknames).

And really, how would you feel if some person from a first-world country were to go to your house and say “I want to experience living in the poverty-stricken third world with no distilled water, no hot showers, and with no proper transportation, because I want to get an epiphany” ? It’s like immediately assuming that he is in fact apart from you, different from you, when we actually have what he thinks only he has the privilege of having.

I’m posting an entry in a rare moment of down time in honor of the death of Michael Jackson. No, really.

I’m admittedly a posthumous fan. Before his death, the only song I really grew up with was “Heal the World” and “Rock with You”, the former because I would see videos of it as a kid and sing it in school complete with cheesy actions, and the latter because my mom loves this song.

Then when he died, I began to watch all the tributes. I youtubed Billie Jean, Thriller, Smooth Ctiminal, Beat It, Bad, Black or White, Man in the Mirror…all the songs I could find. I watched the Myx Channel’s 24 hour MJ video spree. I downloaded all his songs…in short, I did everything expected, probably to feel a sense of oneness with millions of people paying tribute, to say that I am part of this singular moment in history—even when the only song I ever had of his in my iPod was David Cook’s version of Billie Jean. I never even owned a single one of his cds.

I think a lot of people feel the same way I do. Billie Jean, Black or White, Rock with You, made its rounds around the bars and restaurants of Metro Manila and it’s funny to see people’s reactions. People like me cheer and dance “in honor of the King of Pop” while people who aren’t, look puzzled and annoyed, wondering why Pokerface stopped playing.

I know it is pretentious for me to suddenly become a fan when he DIED. It’s like I’m acknowledging his greatness (and he’s really, really great, let me tell you. I should know, having watched all those concerts) just because everyone else is, just because it’s the thing to do right now.

It’s sad that a lot of people have to wait to die before they are acknowledged. It’s sad that death is a means of making people appreciate you, of making people suddenly realize your worth. Hence, the question: is that why so many people commit suicide?

I read somewhere that suicide meant not giving up on yourself, but giving up on the people around you. So in a way, people commit suicide because they feel they aren’t being appreciated enough, and think that maybe their death will be a big FU to the world, a way of saying, “Hey I’m dead now. Remember everything I did, and wallow in remorse, bitches.”

At least, that’s one way of putting it.

I have a glass of chardonnay in one hand and a cigarette in the other. And I’m sitting in my garden alone except for my beloved laptop. Here we go again for another psychoanalysis session. I think I have the makings of an alcoholic. I’ve spent so many days these past weeks with only the company of a nearly full bottle of Merlot wine and a pack of cigarettes. Let me recommend Hardy’s. Inexpensive but good.

So, Carrie Bradshaw-like, lets emphasize a question. How will you fix yourself if you don’t even know what’s depressing you? Really, my ability to depress myself is amazing. I’m quite talented at it–well, either that or I just don’t have the capacity to fight against it anymore.

Sometimes, I just want to quit everything I’m doing. I specifically want to resign from begging money from corporations and from letting my own groupmates take for granted that I’ll do everything or talk me into doing things on the argument that I’m the one who knows what she’s doing. But I can’t. I care too much over how that will reflect on me. I care too much what people think. And that, I think, is what is depressing me most of all. That is the root of all my problems–and they’re god-awful problems. Believe me.

That’s why I feel like disappearing and becoming a contemplative nun–away from everyone. From social pressures, from social judgments, from social norms.

If nuns could smuggle a whole wine cellar in the convent, believe me, I would be taking my vows faster than you can say “Sound of Music.”

Question answered, I guess. This alcohol/nicotine-induced psychoanalysis works everytime.

Every time I smoke alone, I psychoanalyze myself. And it can be really depressing because it usually makes me think about myself

I guess the root of this is that I really don’t know what I want–I don’t know what I want to be, I don’t know what makes me happy, I don’t know why I’m doing all this, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, if there even is anything wrong with me. Hell, I don’t know anything. And it’s depressing because at the end of my self-therapy or whatever it is, I don’t come any closer to finding anything out.

The only conclusion I usually come up with is that I’m not happy or contented. But the problem is that I don’t know what will make me happy or contented. And I guess what’s really beneath all my self-reflecting, depressive tendencies is that I have a feeling that no matter what happens, I’ll never be satisfied with anything.

OH NO. I am not getting depressed again.

Since I’m really bored and don’t feel like studying Eco, I’m going to copy Daryll. Hahaha.

1. I HATE HATE HATE it when people say “surely”. It’s not even a proper word for Strunken-White-proper-grammar’s sake!

2. I don’t watch the ETC channel because I hate the ETC voice. HAHA. No, seriously. “Surely” was surely invented there.

3. I haven’t worn rubbershoes since the first sem of sophomore year, after Arnis PE.

4. I haven’t been to a movie house since Eragon showed two years ago.

5. I haven’t watched Dark Knight, Iron Man, Transformers…name it, I haven’t seen it.

6. I can bake really good chocolate chip cookies. REALLY!

7. I’ve liked watching Bea Alonzo and John Lloyd Cruz movies ever since I saw One More Chance. For the record, I love One More Chance.

8. If I like a song, I can listen to it over and over again for a whole day without getting tired of it. Like right now, it’s Falling Slowly from Once. I love it.

9. I like making papak muscovado sugar. (Papak looks so weird when it’s written. PAPAK.)

10. I love making papak Antonio Pueho Cocoa Balls or whatever you call those things you’re supposed to make into hot cocoa.

11. I can eat any kind of Sinigang, Kare-Kare, Bulalo, Nilaga, Tinola without a single grain of rice–but I need veggies.

12. I love lechon but more than one serving gives me a really bad headache and heartburn.

13. There were a few years when I was a kid that I didn’t eat Lechon balat because I heard my lola’s beautician say that eating it gave you rough pig skin.

14. I was FASCINATED by the coconut husks people use to polish their floors. I used to want to be a labandera/coconut-husk-floor-wiper when I was a kid. Scrubbing clothes in a balde (?) just intrigued me.

15. I wanted to be a nun from preschool to second or third grade.

16. I used to memorize the lives of LOTS of saints. I loved to read those kiddy saint books AND some of their biographies. St Therese of Liseaux was my favorite–I read her autobiography when I was 9 and also wanted to enter the convent at 15

17. I like watching all the CSI’s but look away/change the channel/close my eyes when they (a) discover the body; (b) show the body in the morgue; (c) replay the murder scene.

18. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d get hugely fat, I’d be a chef and not care about my weight. But I do. And it’s sad.

19.I watch Spongebob Squarepants and read Perez-Hilton to de-stress. It’s what I look forward to every other day or so.

20. Ally McBeal made me want to become a lawyer once. The Practice and Law and Order turned me off.

21. I cried BUCKETS at this Judy Anne Santos-Piolo Pascual movie I watched while randomly channel-surfing about her fiancee who was Piolo’s best friend who was in a coma.

22. For a while, everytime I saw Sam Milby, I thought he was Piolo Pascual. I couldn’t tell them apart.

23. I can watch Grey’s Anatomy Season 3 over and over again but only up to the episode where Meredith drowns and gets saved by McDreamy. Oh and I think Mark and Addison should really end up. I have never liked Lexie.

24. I don’t agree with oganizations that put animal rights before people’s.

25. I was never aware of backfat until someone pointed it out.

Taking an internship in an ad agency–which might be the career path I’m going to take–made me think about whether this is the kind of life I want…if it is what I want to get into, if I actually will LIKE working like this.

Sometimes, I like it, it’s fun, sometimes, I feel like I’m no good at it, and sometimes, I just want to be a trustfund baby and never work a day in my life.

But the one thing that keeps running through my head is that in less than a year, I’ll be OUT THERE. It’s scary and exciting and fun and crap all at the same time.

But first, I have to get through this very stressful summer.

I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately, if you can’t tell from the titles of my entries. They’re all parts of songs that I like now. And they’re happy songs, mind you. Well, love/life-reflecting songs, anyway. Haha.

Anyway, the weather is friggin bipolar. You wake up in the morning, and it’s really, really hot and sunny outside. Then after a few hours, the sweltering heat suddenly becomes a really, really strong rainstorm. It rages for a few minutes, leaves everything wet, dank, and humid, and then the sun comes out again and shines as hard as it can. This happens everyday and is enough to drive anyone stark crazy. And sick with a fever and colds. Ahhhhh the effects of global warming.

I finally got to watch Dark Knight but I couldn’t make it past the bank robbery. I just CAN’T watch scary/bloody/action movies alone…and at night too. I need to have someone beside me (preferably someone who already watched it) to tell me when the Joker will poke a pencil in someone’s eye or when someone’s face gets cut in half, while I hide my face with a pillow, shut my eyes, and cover my ears. So needless to say, I chickened out after the first few scenes.

I did get to watch Twilight though, and its effect on me was…bipolar. Hahaha. The countless staring-hungrily-into-your-eyes look was sickening but in the end, a vampire boyfriend like Edward suddenly looked very appealing. And Robert Pattinson also began to look kind of hot in the middle-end of the movie. Though I still can’t get over with the staring. I mean, stop it with the looks and just jump him/her already! Oh wait, he can’t because he can’t resist her blood and she might die. Roll eyes. Maybe the staring + Edward’s weird eyes + Edward’s body glitter hypnotized me into liking the movie. Whatever it was, I’m actually kind of considering watching New Moon when it comes out. Hear that, Da? HAHA.

So anyway, to accomplish my goals this summer, I have Iron Man, Dark Knight, and Transformers to watch, AND I REALLY MUST BREAK THAT ERAGON RECORD.

This is turning out to be a really busy summer!

It turns out that the internship at Ogilvy is flexi time so I can both intern and take summer classes! Yay. At least, that’s what they said. I have to wait for the orientation to confirm. Haha.

I’ve decided that I’m going to enjoy working and stressing because it’s practically written in my job description anyway. To paraphrase some old saying, if you can’t avoid it, get with it. So I will.

But before anything else, I must meet my ultimate summer goal: TO FINALLY BREAK MY PATHETIC STREAK. In other words, finally, finally watch a movie in a movie house after two years. Since Eragon, to be exact. Believe it or not, I haven’t watched any of the major must-sees. I haven’t seen Dark Knight, Iron Man, Transformers…even Twilight and the Harry Potters beyond the third.

It’s not that I’m avoiding movie houses or anything. I’d rather just watch the fake DVD at home and go shopping. But due to constant peer pressure (HAHA), I will go to the movie house, buy a ticket, and watch a friggin movie while eating popcorn. But I don’t know what just yet. But then, anything’s better than Eragon.

In other news, Eco 111 is all about my worse nightmare, my Achilles Heel (or is it tendon?), my Waterloo, my weakest weakness, the worst 8-letter word in all of my Ateneo history—C-A-L-C-U-L-U-S.

Oh well. Work, work, work = love, love, love.

I’m so perky today. What have I been taking??