When I was young, I knew everything.
When I was young, I argued with theories. I thought that my intelligence was the weight of the argument. There was the compulsion to drop name after name, theoretical concept after theoretical concept. I argued with the contempt and impunity that can only come from someone not old enough to be proven wrong. I was on a mission to prove to the world that I am right, and everything in it is wrong, stupid, and idiotic. Big words, too; words that, from the perspective of a youthful version of me, can summarize – and solve – the problems of the national Gessellschaft.
Then I grew old enough to take up a job. After three or so years of writing copy and etching a name for myself in the glass walls of multinationals and transnationals – from newspapers to BPO to advertising – I realized that I only “knew everything” when I was young. In the brave new world, beyond the shelter of the Geisteswissenschaften and the arguments of privilege that came with a chair in the classroom and a book from the library, there are some things I realized.
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Ah, boredom… what wouldn’t I do without you.
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About a year ago, I wrote that the word “diaspora” may not be the right word to describe – or to appropriate – the phenomenon of Filipino migration. It’s about linguistic precision; that words like “Maafa” evoke a meaningful experience to Africans, and there’s meaning evoked when you refer to the lower Hindu caste as “Dalit.” I used the word “pakikipagsapalaran” – gamble – for the sake of some linguistic precision to the Filipino experience of migration, but somehow that begs a revisiting.
I’m not a “translator” per se (only in the sense of pop songs), but the term is actually “pandarayuhan.” A root word – “dayo” – means to “visit.” Another root word – “dayuhan” – means “foreigner.” One must make distinctions, though, between “dalaw” and “dayo;” that while the former assumes that you were invited, the second one assumes force.
I think it is in the word “dayo” where we should form that narrative of our people.
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In “A House for Mr. Biswas” by V.S. Naipaul, the lead character, Mohun Biswas, sees a house as a sign of his triumphs, independence, and vindication from his bad fortunes. I surmise that it’s not a mansion or a palace, but a house that he can call his own.
In a GMANews.TV report, the Coconut Palace – that edifice to anything and everything Imeldific, one of the many monuments to the ostentatiousness of Martial Rule – is being considered as the official residence for Vice President Jejomar Binay, who seems to be getting a little bit of cabin fever from his office. Apparently, the office in the PNB Building isn’t dignified and respected enough for Binay to exercise his duties. As such, the office that he represents should have an official office and residence fit for his position.
There’s no better manifestation of a “structure of power” than a house. It’s more than just a place to live: it’s a status symbol. We add floors, create wings, fill rooms with furniture and create fences and gates to affirm class and status. It’s a matter of giving something prestige, of creating (literal) structures that affirm our lot in life. That, in effect, is what Binay is trying to do: give some weight to his position. In this case, a nicely-appointed residence.
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The big idea for Freshman Masculine Wash is simple: if there’s shampoo for your hair and toothpaste for your teeth, then there must be something for your intimate areas (the word “pototoy” makes bad copy). A pH-balanced manoy, coupled with the fresh scent of tea tree oil (for whatever it’s worth), apparently gives you that cool and fresh feeling as “she.” I doubt if the same feeling can be achieved by splashing tea tree Eskinol – or Gilbey’s Premium Strength, on one’s tarugo, but a titi smelling like a tea tree (good grief) would probably be in vogue once Freshman becomes acceptable and quite ordinary.
It didn’t fly (no pun intended) with Penifresh, but once you get the hang (again, no pun intended) of shower gels formulated and manufactured exclusively for your crotch, then Freshman may be for you. Who wouldn’t want a cool, refreshed, moisturized, bacteria-free manly intimate area?
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