The General Specific

In case anyone hasn’t heard yet, I’ve been writing in a different blog for over a year now. :)



A shoot with my sister‘s figures.

(Don’t be turned off. I have a point!)

Ah, the internet – the formidable ally (and occasionally, foe) of every inhabitant of the 21st century time line. How many times have you gone through the near-death experience of not being able to update your Twitter or checking your new wall posts on Facebook? To go cliché on you, we all know it bridges different cultures and virtually (pun not intended) erases the boarders of the world.

I can’t argue with that, but will you raise your eyebrows when I say that lately, I’ve been seeing the internet in the opposite way? I find that the internet is a double-edged sword – it simultaneously makes easier and makes difficult communication. The obvious reason for saying this is that because the modes of communication has increased exponentially in number and convenience, any idiot could post his brilliant ideas online; and indeed, he does. What you have are very few gems among terabytes worth of mindless babble that don’t count as conversation at all. (Do you feel my arrogance yet?)

The less explicit (and infinitely more mushy) reason is that although it brings you closer to people, it also reminds you of the distance. There are so many things that you would want to share with whoever it is you’re speaking with that goes beyond pixels: the places you go to, the people you hang out with, the food you love eating, the books you always read, your favorite scents – all these tangible things that no amount of talent with words could ever suffice in describing. Speaking with whoever it is through the internet reminds you of that fact, and somehow, that just makes him/her farther away from you than before.

Oh god, I can’t believe I just wrote that. Shoot me now. Moving on.

This makes me think of the whole empathy business. Absolute empathy is impossible, of course, and just like how you could not share an experience in its entirety by writing about it. There’s something vital lacking when the experience isn’t first hand, and this point brings me to something I’ve been discussing (ironically, through emails) with someone lately.

Can a person who has never suffered love virtue as much as someone who has? My initial answer was that someone who has not suffered has the opportunity to love virtue for its own sake, for the sole purpose of it being good, with the help of empathy through art. A certain level of detachment is needed for this because if he has suffered, then his love for virtue will most likely be reactionary.  He said that art (or maybe even empathy in general) could only take us so far; could we really understand virtue without knowing what it’s like in the absence of it? Besides, “not all love born of suffering is reactionary. It is sometimes real.”

( Huh? What cynic? :D )

In Need Of A Miracle – New Radicals

I’ve been feeling extra sentimental lately for reasons that haven’t been gracious enough to introduce themselves. I’ve always been retrospective, with an amazing ability to make myself feel worse with all my second-guessing, but this kind of sentimental is the cheesy kind and frankly, it’s disgusting me. I blame the hormones.

I’ve written lists of things I miss, listened to 90’s songs, read old letters and blog entries. Good word, when will this madness end?! Scrobble

See what I mean? My scrobbles say it all.

With this sentimentality in tow, I’ve been reflecting (what a word to use) on my life and I’ve decided that I’ve been taking time (among other things) for granted. It’s strange because I’ve long been impatient for the “real world” to come, the time when I could do whatever I want to do without being inhibited by parental (no offense, parents) and financial constraints, but then I figured, does such a time even exist? I’m thinking like a typical teenager.

I admit. I feel like I’ve already wasted too big a part of my life and that I’m running out of time, but I still don’t think I would want to live forever. It’s the urgency of things that makes life interesting, and when time ceases to hold any significance, how could you possibly take anything seriously?

With that, I’m making No Such Thing by John Mayer my anthem and claim that there’s no such thing as a real world, just a lie you gotta rise above.

Strobe Lights Say

Strobe Lights (Say You Should Kiss Me)
Download mix here

  1. In Steps (Letting Up Despite Great Faults)
  2. To The Moon (Sweet Trip)
  3. Pulling Our Weight (The Radio Dept.)
  4. Take Me In (Wild Nothing)
  5. Feeling Is New (Pia Fraus)
  6. I Promise Not To Notice If You Promise To Pretend (Ides of Space)
  7. The Scientific Findings of Dr. Rousseau (Savoir Adore)

For awkward boys and girls who know what they want, make moves to get it but back out at the last minute. This is the sign you’ve been waiting for.

Looking through albums of old shots, I realized I haven’t taken anything this decent long while.

Sunset in Magallanes

I was planning on staring blankly at the open browser until some stroke of genius hits me and I come up with a witty first post to lure you into reading my blog regularly. Alas, no dice so might as well get on with the rest of the show.

Another blog! Mon meilleur ami would probably laugh and comment on my short attention span in blog-sustenance.  I keep two other blogs, but I wanted (needed) a less specialized one so here. Welcome to my new trash bin (or file cabinet, if you’re into the whole euphemism business)! Here I will post general brain fart which includes (but is not limited to): musical findings, social or political musings, occasional reviews, photos I took, et cetera. Blah, blah. Obligatory paragraph about the details of the blog ends here. Now for a better use of internet space.

This week has been a whirlwind of disaster. Unless you’re one of those people who practice the life of a hermit (or live under boulders), then you probably know about the Quirino Grand Stand hostage-taking situation. Criticism here and there, people blaming everyone – same old story. I don’t really want to comment on the incident per se ’cause everything has been said. Even Jackie Chan put his two cents in on the whole ordeal.

For a recovering misanthrope, situations like this popping up so close to home (literally) incite so much disgust that it’s difficult to not return to the old ways of cynicism. The irony of this was that as I was listening to the news coverage of the event, I was reading about Aristotle and Cicero and those classical philosophers who claimed that societies aimed for a common good. I wonder what they would say if they were here now.

There’s no use denying that when situations like this happen, people end up having a little less faith in humanity. Maybe I was once guilty of this but what I realized (and what others should as well) is that for every spawn of Satan who takes hostage a bus full of people, are fifteen innocent others, those who were oppressed. It’s so easy to forget that these brutes are merely a very flagrant minority. I’d like to think that the rest of humanity is actually worthy of our better sentiments. Not that I’ve met the rest of humanity, but I’m going with Benedict Anderson’s imagined nation here, only I’m extending my affinity with the rest of humanity and not just those with whom I share the same color of passport.

I’m not trying to be inspiring, but if everyone ends up being misanthropes, then what future could we hope for for our race? This is just me fearing for my life. Heh.

Look! Up in the sky!

This is the blog of a recovering misanthrope taking up a philanthropic course. I promise neither substance nor relevance. I have my head among the clouds and I do it for the kicks!

Oh right. Hi, I'm Kai.