It was raining last night, and I found myself stuck at Katipunan waiting the torrent out.  There was nothing more I could do but to buy myself a “couple of beers” at a joint across the road from the Ateneo.  “Couple of beers” is relative to what you drink, and if you have sound skills in mathematics.  To me, it’s six bottles of San Miguel Pale Pilsen and a couple of bottles of Red Horse.

No, I didn’t get drunk.  I was still able to make my way back home in a completely sober state.  This is the third time in three months that my attempt to get completely wasted completely backfired on me.

Many of my friends are quite concerned that I’m starting to develop an unhealthy propensity towards “assisted suicide.”  My life has reached that point of equilibrium, and I don’t like it.  My mom is concerned that I may be pushing myself too far and almost over the edge with how many hours I put in, and how I actually have to text her on weekends asking her for things to do.  I don’t want to take to more downward spirals just because I drink an entire bucket of beer on my own, and chain-smoke on top of that.

I’m not emo: I don’t soul-search.  It’s just neurosis setting in.  Maybe psychosis.  Paranoia: I feel like I’m being followed, watched, tracked down.  Whatever: it’s not like it’s affecting the normalcy of my life.

Maybe that’s just it: my life is too normal.  I commute, I work, I commute, I sleep, and then do everything else all over again.

* - from Live, “Lightning Crashes”

I was reading my undergraduate thesis last night, when it suddenly occurred to me that I should have something more to say about this whole debate about “blogging ethics.”  (My thesis, by the way, is a 366-page tome on Friendster.com: check Original TMX for details.)  A lot of bloggers are PO’ed over critical (?) statements made by the likes of Luis Teodoro, Malu Fernandez, Tim Yap, and Korina Sanchez regarding blogging.  Their statements can be conveniently summarized in two bullet-points:

• That some bloggers are “irresponsible” and the blogging community is in need of a “code of ethics,” and;
• That the lot of bloggers who blog anonymously reduce, if not destroy, credibility in opinion-sharing in New Media.

Then I figured that I didn’t make a 366-page thesis on the “sociology” of virtual environments for nothing.  Rather than posture as an “academic expert” on this matter, let me try to make some sense of it using my own background as a “social anthropologist.”

*     *     *

Let me begin by asking a rather inane question: what is blogging?

Hmmm… it isn’t all that inane after all.  Every blogger has a definition of what blogging is.  If you asked me, blogging is the act of writing extended to the medium of cyberspace.  I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record every time I refer to Marshall McLuhan’s quote, “The medium is the message.”  Most critics of blogging grapple with the content of blogs, but fail to recognize that the “message” of blogging is not what’s written in the blog, but the blog itself.  Blogging is like every medium of communication: it is an extension of ourselves.   Hence the term “mediation.”

As a “social anthropologist” (always note the quotation marks when I use that term), I don’t necessarily subscribe to a setting where the medium is “in between” elements in the communication process.  There is always delay.  Whatever means we employ to communicate, there will always be a spatial and temporal distance that alters the messages and actions we convey.  At the same time, there is always production.  We constantly produce stuff, which includes communicative messages; at the same time, we are constantly produced by stuff.  Both delay and production lead to that all-important term that characterizes the communication process: interpretation.

So what do we analyze when it comes to blogs: the content of the blogs, or the blog itself?

*     *     *

Now that Mainstream Media has conveniently wasted time making these human-interest stories about Brian Gorrell, I personally think that they have conveniently missed the point.  We should “beware” the blog not because people like Brian Gorrell use it to air their grievances, but because we are coming to a point in history where delay and production - and subsequently, interpretation - take whole new meanings when applied to a situation like cyberspace.  Note:

• Delay is present - and at the same time absent - in blogging;
• Information is constantly produced in blogging.

Anyone familiar with Jacques Derrida or Roland Barthes would be familiar with delay.  For Derrida, delay is a paradox: something is “first” because of a “second” that follows it, and because of this, the “first” is always a repetition, a copy.  Because I have problems understanding Derrida, I would use Barthes.  Blogging is writing: every text is committed in the here-and-now.  No matter how many times I will tell you that I wrote this sentence on May 10, 2008 at 1:40 PM, this sentence will outlive that point in time.  In the case of both journalists and bloggers, they commit themselves into the text.  The text will outlive them, and therefore no text is “owned.”  It is there, and that’s all that matters.  It is there because it is the medium.  What I say afterwards won’t matter to this particular instance of text.

More importantly, information is constantly produced and reproduced.  There is no “source” of information, nor is there a “gatekeeper” of it.  Information, like text, is there.  A blogger, a journalist, and even the neighborhood chismosa is not the infallible”source” of a collection of information.  Anyone who uses media is in effect a scriptor, an aggregator, an interpreter, a person engaged in a commitment and a practice.  So a Mainstream Media reporter covers a police report on an exploding banana that killed an errant pedicab driver pedaling through EDSA at the wrong lane, is he/she the source of the information?  No.  He/she produced the information that came from an information that preceded it, that came with it, so the information is merely a copy.

*     *     *

So here’s the thing: whatever a Mainstream Media practitioner swipes at a blogger is technically a swipe a blogger could make against a Mainstream Media practitioner.  Blogging is consequential of information, just like Gutenberg’s printing press.  Deal with it.

First things first: I do not consider myself a “political blogger.”  I am not in the same league as Manolo Quezon, The Philippine Experience, Dean Jorge Bocobo, Nick, or any of my fellow contributors to FilipinoVoices (yes, that includes the Professional Commenter Known As Benign0 - I got that from Mr. Quezon).

Now that my definition-of-situation has been conveniently “categorized” by many bloggers as a “political commentator” - which, by the way, I am not - I am forced to reflect upon the ramifications of being one.  Because I don’t blog anonymously, I would be ever-so-prone to passing critiques by the anonymous and sanctimonious that I am a “hypocrite.”  After all, who am I to judge the proverbial dumi of This Government, when I turn a blind eye into my own, uh, lapses in judgment?  My own law-breaking?

In the effort to come clean, to be accountable, and to be transparent (which are curse words in the milieu of This Government, IMO), I have decided to enumerate a five things I do to contribute to the overall decay of the Philippines (in contrast to that guy who wrote a book on x-number of things you can do to help your country).  And no, I’m not going to make some lame, over-the-top explanations and excuses for my own errors.

*     *     *

1.  I don’t honor the Flag of the Philippines.

My lame excuse would be that the Flag is a mere symbol of high-minded, yet low-achieving, ideals of pseudo-independent post-colonial imperialism.  Yes, I do not revere the Flag as much as a high school student with a bad haircut from COQC.  Heck, elementary school kids are far more… patriotic, than I am.  At around 7:00 AM, I have just conveniently finished off a plate of breakfast at the office pantry waiting for my nightshifter to leave.  There are times that the police officers at Camp Crame, QC Police Station 10, or any other government office at the immediate line-of-sight of any train cab of the MRT raise their Flags early.  And yes, I am inside the MRT.  There is no way I could stand still, much less put my hand on my left breast, with that crowding.

2.  I jaywalk.

The lamest excuse that I would think of actually comes from back in my college days: I refuse to be constrained by the fascism of symbols and language that serve to restrict my realization of my full potentials (Gilles Deleuze’s A Thousand Plateaus, completely bastardized).  Jaywalking is the easiest, most convenient way for me to get to the office when I am running dangerously late for work.  The way I see it, Julia Vargas and San Miguel Avenue are most convenient for jaywalking.

3.  I don’t dispose of my cigarette butts properly.

Something as simple as looking for an ashtray or a trash can is something I ignore in the simple-minded act of throwing my cigarette butts.  A lame excuse would be that I still contribute to the economy, and even go so far as to pay more than my own fair share of taxes, by purchasing cigarettes from multinational corporations who evade taxation.  Yet I figure out that the toxic substances found in a single cigarette butt are concentrated enough to poison an entire family when the water from storm drains are eventually purified.  Besides, I also contribute to the clogging of the streets by “disposing of” my cigarette butts in storm drains.

4.  I do not support the local economy by buying foreign-made goods.

Lame excuse: products in the Philippines are surpressed by cheap imports that are not taxed enough, and Filipino products are in a losing effort against foreign goods because of a bad economic policy.  Of course, I didn’t figure that out when I dressed in a pair of Converse high-tops, a Levi’s 501, a Giordano T-shirt, pocketed my Marlboro Lights cigarettes, used my Sony Ericsson phone, and listened to the music of Rob Zombie.  Even my underwear is foreign (Puma socks, Tommy Hilfiger undergarments).  On occasion, I drink cold coolers at UCC Vienna Café (Japanese) and Gloria Jean’s Coffees (American).  The only things “Filipino” on me right now are a P15 blowtorch I bought from the sari-sari store and a couple of hundred pesos.  You can even question the allegiance of former President Manuel Roxas, but I leave that to the historians.

5.  The single vote for Victor Wood (among others) in our precinct at the 2007 national elections was mine.

One of my lame excuses would be that I don’t believe that elections constitute a basis for democracy in the Philippines (it doesn’t: more on that when I feel like it).  Because I only had four Senators in mind when I was voting in 2007, I decided to fill in the gaps on my ballot with people I know do not stand a chance of winning.  Voting for Victor Wood was NOT an exercise in “protest,” I just didn’t want to “waste my vote” contributing to politicians I do not particularly like, like Prospero Pichay, Koko Pimentel, Richard Gomez, and Vic Sotto.  The only senatoriables on my mind were Francis Escudero, Gringo Honasan (so sue me), Joker Arroyo (there goes a vote), and Martin Bautista (a vote I do not regret making).  The rest of my Senate line-up included Felix Cantal, Oliver Lozano, Ruben Enciso, and I even threw in the names of Nikki Coseteng and Cesar Montano for good measure.  And then there’s Victor Wood: I wouldn’t mind Madam Auring seated in the Senate gallery.

*     *     *

So there you have it: five things I do and I have done to contribute to the decay of Filipino society.  So as I lecture on and on about what “should be changed,” you must all be very well aware that all this rambling comes from a 22-year-old unpatriotic,
jaywalking, littering, foreign-supporting informal campaign manager of Victor Wood 2010.

So yes, Ms. Korina Sanchez, Mr. Luis Teodoro, Mr. Tim Yap, and Ms. Malu Fernandez: blogging is credible.

Go ahead, sue me for what I’m going to say: I do not respect Brian Gorrell.  Sorry ’bout your damn luck, pal.

So what, you ask?  What did Brian Gorrell ever do to me anyway?  It’s not like he stole cash I do not have, or that he destroyed my reputation.

What really irritated me is when he “spoke to us” (by “us” I mean the attendees at iBlog 4, and by “us” I mean “me”) through a special video presentation.  I have no problems with Brian Gorrell personally.  Before, I didn’t care - and to be honest, I still don’t care - if Brian Gorrell is the most famous and the most read blogger in the Philippines today.  What I do have a problem is that Brian Gorrell started blogging two months ago.  Which brings me to a reality check: I started blogging a little over three and a half years ago.

And Brian Gorrell has the audacity to give me ex cathedra straight-from-the-pulpit on-my-father’s-lap advice on blogging?  Give me an effin’ break!

I have some friends who say that as a blogger, I don’t get the respect I “rightfully” deserve.  Short answer: I don’t need it.  I air my dirty laundry out in public every once in a while, but I don’t make a small name and reputation out of telling juicy bits about myself.  For one, I don’t have juicy bits to tell people about anyway.  For two, I have better things to attend to than to lambaste people in my not-famous not-so-popular blog.  Like post absurd entries about cabbages.  Or talk about important (or as I deem them so) issues.  At least, I have yet to descend into “eventology,” whatever that is.

This is why I have an extremely grudging respect for someone like Malu Fernandez.  To be perfectly honest, I don’t want to share a cup of coffee with Ms. Fernandez anytime soon.  A: I don’t drink coffee.  B: I don’t agree with her on a lot of things, and the OFW “scandal” is the least of them.  C: She supports lesser evils no matter who’s in power, which makes her evil by virtue of a syllogism.  Yet I have to respect Ms. Fernandez for being open and honest, and for being responsible enough to take the shat when it was coming to her.

Brian Gorrell?  Sorry about his damn luck, but I simply do not care.  The same goes for the lot of new bloggers out there who think they can pull off a “Brian Gorrell” by airing dirty laundry and neurotic emo on their Multiply sites (I just have a strange dislike for Multiply, I don’t know if it’s just me).  I mean, why should I?  Big friggin deal.  Everyone gets cheated on at one point in their lives.  Everyone has that unfortunate love affair.

To quote a favorite saying by a friend of mine, “The world doesn’t revolve around YOU.”  Sorry ’bout your damn luck, but your problems are like anuses.  Everyone has one.

If you can get away with endless posts about your ex and your personal issues, I don’t see why you cannot get away with at least ONE post about the ills plaguing you as a member of society.  Never mind that you write anonymously, never mind that you don’t take the time to construct a proper sentence.  I mean, what is so difficult about taking the time to write a potentially world-changing entry?

So here’s to the Brian Gorrell’s of the blogosphere:

Sorry ’bout your damn luck.

* - This is the title of James Storm’s theme music in Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, which was lifted off Shooter Jennings’ “Electric Rodeo”

I’m here at an Internet café in Cubao, and I have a few hours to kill before I have dinner with some bloggers over at Greenhills.  I figure that now would be a good time to present my choice for Video of the Week.

I like to think I have a very broad taste in music (considering the past winners of VotW).  I do like listening to Rage Against the Machine, Rob Zombie, Metallica, and Marilyn Manson, but we all can’t listen to the same genre of music every day.  We need to expand our horizons to include the kind of music we grew up with.  For my generation, that would include The Moffatts, Gil Ofarim, Hanson, A1, and Five.

And then there’s this group.  Here’s this week’s VotW:

*     *     *

*     *     * 

Yes, this week’s VotW is that 1990s pop hit by 911, “The Day We Find Love.”  This may sound like a horrible choice for VotW considering that nobody will ever confess to listening to 911.  But there’s at least one guy who posted a comment in the video who’s at least being honest (clue: he’s the only Filipino brave enough to post his true feelings about the song).

This wouldn’t be VotW if I didn’t translate lyrics, so…

*     *     * 

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa…

Wag kang mag-alala, ‘di ko naman sinasadya
Mauubos din ang luha
Hahayaan ba kitang magparaya?
Hinihiling ko lang, sabihin mo ang totoo
Yun lang ang tangi kong hiling, na sana’y maalala mo pa ako

Ang tanging nagpalaya sa iyo
Konting oras lang ang kailangan mo
Pagmamahal natin
Di pa huli ang lahat

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling

Di ako susuko, habang may pag-asa pa
Panaginip na walang wakas, pag-ibig na walang kasing-wagas
Sa puso ko ay ikaw pa rin ang aking mahal
Ngunit sabi-sabi nila ay, handa mo na raw ako na iwan

Paano na ang nakaraan
Ang ating pinagdaanan
Wag mo sanang kalimutan
Di pa huli ang lahat

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling

Alaalahanin mo, na ako lang nagparaya para sa yo
Konting oras lang, sana’y mahal mo pa rin ako

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling…

*     *    * 

That has got to be my suckiest translation so far.  Whew!  Catch you on the flipside, Marochaholics!

“Peace of mind” is a rarity these days.  Not only am I becoming extremely paranoid, I’m starting to really boil over.  Maybe six years of frustrations have built up deep inside of me that I deserve at least one sleepless night to think things over, to sort things out, and to just let it go.

Oh yes, I still am quite angry at some people.  I still can’t let go of a past I should have let go in the first place.  I still get the feeling that I’ve been screwed over one too many times that I can’t help but be an accuser for once.  I still get the feeling that the brunt of “injustices” in this world are passed off to my direction just like used condoms in a motel (sheesh, the metaphors).

At around 2:30 AM, it finally hit me: “injustice,” like “justice” itself, is a perspective.  I often complain that I’m too under-appreciated and taken-for-granted, that I should take my grievances somewhere to someone who would perhaps listen.  Then I realized how much time I wasted looking for reciprocity, for appreciation, for acceptance… so much so that I forgot how much is already in front of my table.  So much so that I forget about the apples already in my basket.  Isn’t that enough to be thankful for?

Sure, I made a few mistakes.  No, wait, I made a LOT of mistakes.  But I kind of forgot how many times, and in how many ways, I got up and took what’s coming, and kept on walking.  I kind of forgot how many times people tried to knock me down, and time and time again, I always clawed my way back up.

So yeah, I always made complaints about how many people didn’t help me when I was down.  I’ve always complained about how many people didn’t become my crutch, how many people screwed me over, and about “getting tired” when nobody “comes to my rescue.”  It took me a sleepless night to realize how much of myself was formed not because I was up, but because I was down.  Of how much of me smells like smoke because I went through the fire, not around it.  Of how much of me stands because I fell.

So I guess I can’t say I got screwed over.  There are too many blessings for me to count.