...and a blogger cannot freely blog.

The fly sees the vast air space for flying.  He excitingly dashes to swim in its boundlessness.  But he bumps onto the unnoticed clear glass separating the inside from the outside, locking his desires to naught.

So it is with the blogger.  He eloquently brilliantly astonishingly captures the saga of uncontainable existence in his mind and just when he's about to post it, he is suppressed by social constraints in a "free" society and a "centerless" cyberspace.

What distinguishes pacifism and repression from responsible-freedom?  An unseen miserly entity appealing to tradition and citing social-responsibility whenever it suits him,  intentionally quashing the happiness of the people stemming from  their  inviolable rights.

Growing up involves a lot of bargaining, compromising, and yes, politicking.  How does one stay happy in a job, I mean, really happy, when he has to be somebody else to get a promotion?

Are we a research or a teaching department?  They need not clash; they are not mutually exclusive.  Research should complement one's teaching, and teaching should complement one's research.  But don't we at least have a priority?  I doubt we can do both excellently.

Do artists behave like Lavina in real life?  Are they also that narcissist and egocentric?  Will they produce a concert just to outdo another artist?  Is art just a front for business?

Philosophy isn't a rationalization for a fucked up life one is into.  Yes, it makes you think about the quality of life you're presently living, but it also makes you avoid such an aimless existence in the first place.  So if you're not for philosophy, shift out now.  Life is more than just doing a solitary intellectual masturbation.  Get a life.

Being present doesn't automatically mean that one IS present.  One may always be there but is not THERE.  His presence is not felt.  Now, is it the person's fault if his presence isn't recognized or is it the fault of the people around this person if they don't recognize his presence?

to be continued...

meetjopeblack

William Shakespeare says, "Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none."

I did all three. Yes but I guess I should focus more on number two next time.  Some people just don't know how to handle love, they end up hurting you instead of loving you back.  Might it be true that not all people deserve to be loved?

Love can do nothing to a person so full of hate.

As a teacher, I'm privileged to be my students' confidant by default.  I'm just wondering what happened to them and to the things they consulted me about:

What happened to this student...

...who felt he's losing a grip on himself being in a group of overachievers working on a project.   Was he able to win back himself?  Did he quit his group?

...who is beginning to dislike her best friend after slave driving them in their group, bossing them around like one military training officer, pushing them to work their butts off so she can get her magna cumlaude award.  Did she muster enough courage to speak up to her about the bossing and tossing around?

...who fell in love with the girl friend of his bestfriend.  To make things worse, the girl has the hots for him too.  Did he quit pursuing this girl?

...who stutters in recitations and oral exams.  I told her to consult a speech therapist so they can work on the speech difficulty and/or a psychologist to address the underlying psychological problem.  Did she really go to at least the guidance office for assistance?  How did she fare in her other philosophy oral exams?

...who was diagnosed of leukemia and is afraid of facing death.  I saw her in Eastwood after four or five years, she put on some weight.  Has she recovered?

...whose father was being "benevolent" to a GRO.  She wanted her mom to put her foot down and leave their father.  Her mother's still sticking it up with their father.  She and her sister are deeply affected by the impasse and the continuous cheating.  I told her I can refer her to CEFAM if she wants their assistance.  No word from her since.  How is she holding up?

I wish I can answer all the questions my students ask me.  I wish I can provide them with an easy way out of their problems.  It pains me as their teacher to see them writhe in pain when reality bites and theory sucks.  I worry about them when they question life and their ideals.   If only they can be spared from all of these.

Plugged into: One Moment, One Nescafe

meetjopeblack

My relationship with my big brother has always been a dark streak in a rather colorful canvass.  If I were to plot out my life in a graph, that relationship would probably be the only thing in the negative quadrant wearing me down like a thorn on the foot or worse, a stubborn ingrown.  We weren't able to patch our differences up and/or close the wounds we've consciously or unconsciously inflicted on each other while growing up.  You see, there's just the two of us and the two of us did share nothing in common.  We are two different persons with different interests, conflicting most of the time, very far from complementing each other.  Maybe because we're both males and are therefore very competitive and territorial--we outdid each other by destroying each other.  Yeah, boys and their silly barbaric games!

I've come to accept this dynamic with my brother.  I've no desire to mend whatever there is to mend, if there is still anything left to mend.  The hostility between us are like frays on knits--pull one and the thread will undo the whole cloth.  If we do something about the mutual disgust we have for each other, chances are the umbilical cord of brotherhood will forever be cut.

Thing is, I'm getting married soon and I just wish I have my the best man beside me on that day--my brother.   He's still my big brother and, in spite of the things we said and did to hurt each other, I still love him.  As to the "competition"?  If only he'd shun his blinders away, he'll see that I've thrown in the towel and have bowed down a long time ago.  It's long been over; he is as he always has been, the best.

meetjopeblack

Cathy demonstrated to me one time how I turn the steering wheel when I go right.  How I love Cathy; she notices the small things I take for granted.  She grounds me to myself.

Last Friday when I was close to being dumb-drunk, she annoyedly whispered to me, "Get a hold of yourself!"  That sobered me up.  I knew right there and then that something's amiss and I will have to flaggelate myself after bumming out on her while in the company of friends she knew not.

We left as soon as I finished the goblets I gulped down without restraint earlier.  I stayed at her place till I can drive straightly.  I induced myself to barf as the alcohol lulled me to sleep each passing minute.  Cathy was standing behind me the whole time, handing me the towel and a glass of water, very much irritated yet still very caring.  This is the first time she saw me crossing lucidity over to the drunken state.  At the back of what's left of my spinning mind, I was telling myself how good a wife she would be for me a few months from that time.

Our neighbor was about to make his entry to their garage when I reached home.  I had to drive past our house first, make a u-turn, and park from our east side instead.  I remembered what Cathy said about my steering to the right.  I observed myself and smiled.   Was too conscious to see how I normally would do it.  It's okay.  The thought of Cathy demonstrating to me how I steer the wheel was enough a thought to complete the magnificent rosy brown dusk today.

meetjopeblack

When everything's smooth sailing, you're lulled to not speak by the breeze of nostalgia.  You say, "the feeling says it all" or "no words can capture the vividness of reality" or "actions speak louder than words."  Cliché--did this not destroy the very essence of what you call, indescribable, incommunicable when you lazily appropriated the experience in time-frozen words?

Think, grapple, force yourself to express what is beyond description.  Defy a straight out victory of nothingness even with flimsy words.  Stand against the ebbing of memory's tide with a soliloquy.  Declare to yourself how love was and what love is so that you won't forget  that love is real and that it did happen.

Basking in the feeling will make you forget what is.  Forgetting is killing.  Remembering is letting live.  Speaking is reliving.

and weren't we entertained? But does that make her a star? or a starlet even?