a relative world

In a very distant past, it is said that you are what you eat. Then came the time when you are what you read, followed by not long ago of you are what you watch. Now here in the electronic generation, is there such a thing as you are your blog?

Having similar thoughts on the subject over a year ago on a blog's appeal & the level of privacy, how much of our blog are we really part of? If weblogs are personal sites that uses dated log formats, or personal journals, how much of it reflects the author's character? Now that it has paved its way in the information highway, can we really know a person by merely his blog?

As weblogs exploded the internet, there are so many blog characters representing various subjects as an extention of one's personal thoughts in total freedom. It could be from the most significant to the most trivial issues but the sharing remains as personal. It has become a meeting point of either with common & adverse opinions. But as far as sharing goes, big or small, part or whole, truth or superficial, rooted or skin deep, a blog will never be free of first impressions & assumed ideas of the author's personality - even if he shares only a part of himself.

If blogs can be an extension of one's personality, could we now simply rely on the design & layout as clothing, the writing style as the educational background, the writing tone as the emotional balance and the choice of topic as a mirror of intelligence? Then blogging is not for the faint-hearted for there is no way of avoiding it. Anything you decide to share, everything you put in your blog is relative to different kinds of people.

A simple & modest blog design does not always mean the author is not skilled in coding. Writing is universal & there will be hundreds of ways to express one's thoughts & the tone only conveys a specific moment. Then the choice of topic will always depend on one's privacy. It is always the author's choice of what part of him he wishes to share. The thing is when you share a part of you, no matter how big or small, elaborate or discreet, someone will never go past their first impressions - curiosity dying with it - as if they already know.

In our time of reality shows & voyeurism, as in the blogsphere, it takes maturity to understand its concept - freedom & tolerance from a mix of everything different. I would still like to believe that there is more behind the blog in people, a coming together of the same interests & learning - that your blog cannot truly give you away even if you try to. It will be too easy. But we cannot help to judge & be judged by our blogs.

Then to blog or not to blog - is purely your choice.

isang gabi ako ay nagpapahinga, napansin ko ang bituin

at ako ay tilang nakatulog, di ko napansin ang aking narating
ako raw ay nasa ibang mundo, kulay rosas ang ginto
ng ika'y aking unang nakita, araw ko ay sumaya

Ilang mega taon na rin ang nakalipas noong dinadayo namin ng walang kamatayan ang Kalye Bar sa Palanca. Isang daang piso, dalawang red horse, habang sigaw na hiling kantahin ng banda ang Beep Beep o Balong Malalim ng Juan de la Cruz. Ilang isang daang piso at red horse, ilang kanta na inihatid kami sa ibang lugar, sa ibang mundo sa loob ng ilang oras. Minsan naman sa ilalim ng buko, naka-upo sa mesang sira, walang pansin na sigaw nating kanta Ang Himig Natin habang naghihintay sa dagat ng Nasugbu. Nakapikit at kahit nakadilat, ang mundo sa harap natin ay totoo. Payapa, kasama ang kaibigang tunay, ang kinabukasan ay mararating pa lamang sa ibang daigdig.

Ngayon pagkaraan muli ng panahon, ang walang tigil na tinig nanaman ni Pepe Smith at Mike Hanopol ang maririnig sa loob ng sasakyan ko - mga parehong tugtugin at salita sa ibang lugar at mundo, lumalakbay sa iba't-ibang panahon. Isang kinabukasan na ang naabot at isa nanaman bahagi ng kinabukasan ang hinaharap. Walang tigil na bukas. Baka nga minsan, may mga taong pumipilit humawak sa nakaraan dahil walang maabot ngayon ni bukas. Kung minsan, kasama tayo sa mga taong ganon.

Ganon lang talaga ang buhay, sagana sa paglakbay - sa gawa, sa panahon at sa isip. Ngunit sa ating paglalakbay, di maari na parating masaya. At sa paglakbay natin, parating may magbabago at minsan nakakadala ito ng lungkot.. Kung minsan ganado tayo sa lahat ng pangyayari sa buhay natin at kung minsan nawawalan tayo ng gana. Yan ang mga panahon na binabalik-balikan natin ang kahapon. Lahat tayo dumadaan sa mga araw na ganito. Di ito kaka-iba.

Ngunit nakakalungkot rin talaga na pagkatapos ng tatlong pu't pitong taon ng Juan de la Cruz ay pinapakinggan ko pa rin sila.

*Ang album Maskara ay pasalubong ni jeanette, pangatlo ng Juan de la Cruz, inilabas ito noong 1975. Wala pa akong 5 taon noon.*

While the weather didn't know what to do, I was moving from the south to the north & west and back. A second visit this year from home got me busy for the past few weeks & I have mixed feelings on recovering our apartment's regular stillness & ordinary routines. It's really easier to crave for solitude than having to go over in getting used to silence again. And tasting home again is such a sweet comfort - having it twice in a year is like a candy store window you know you cannot have. Below, me & Jeanette in Basilique Sacré Coeur Paris.

Going to Paris for a couple of days got me bummed out - the metros, the crowds, the capricious weather - but seeing my sister-in-law & her mom is the only delight of Paris - I get to make Jeanette kulit again just like the old days. Apparently, we had an exceptionally warm weather in Paris that made walking more unbearable. Following the usual route from Paris, we were welcomed by the rain & cold in Lourdes. On our way back to Marseille, we had to make an unexpected detour. After being consumed by Paris & the drenching rain of Lourdes, I was never this frantic in being home. Arriving Toulouse, my left shoe's sole tore open, the train arrived, we got in, changed my shoes - in the train heading to Bordeaux. We were 20 minutes too early for the right train & the most expensive mistake I made (after 6 years of taking the train), especially if you happen to get a controller who is a total asshole. I'm boycotting any train trips for now, or until I'm able to laugh at my impromptu visit to Bordeaux.

Then there's the reconnection to the past & how the versions of yourself resurfaced. The random reminders of how you changed & how you actually miss your former versions. The bridging to your one true home & how things will only be better if you're there to see it for yourself. On how my titas cry when they go, touched by the thought that I am so far away from family. The thing is after they've left, there was this impending hole - masked by their visit - that has been threatening me long before. What am I going to do after they leave? It's so exhausting to go over things again, justifying my neverending plans, or rather fears, and those nuits blanches that ties my stomach inside out. Those knots that remind me of my frustration when things don't go the way I hoped them to be. I am a prisoner of freedom now so uptight with normality just because I don't happen to have all the things I consider important in life. When you know exactly what you want but just couldn't have & you need to change plans. Sometimes we just receive little doses of life but potent enough to paralyze us for a moment.

My mom has always been a smart dresser. According to my titas, she would sometimes buy fabric to make into a dress instead of buying food. Being the youngest & the only girl, we used to wear a mother & daughter terno when I was younger. She would force the boyish rug rat I am into wearing jewelry & dresses when all I want is the same Tretorn rubber shoes as my brothers. You could say that I was a late bloomer & started being more girly when I went to college.

"You don't look like you came from France!" I remember my mom telling me when we went home in 2004. I purposely wore the exact same clothes when I left for France 4 years prior & it made me feel good. But the remark was quite puzzling. How does a balikbayan supposed to look?

Looking through the new photos of my friends way back in highschool & college in Friendster has always been fun & surprising. Some you can't recognize, others are amazingly transformed not only physically but also in life. In short, there was an apparent change. And I wondered about my own physical evolution - in what way is it apparent to them?

As much as a comment like, "Grabe, you never changed, ganon pa din looks mo since you left..." from a friend I didn't see for 4 years is not so significant as "You still look the same!" from a friend I didn't see for 20 years. Really makes you wonder if it's a good thing or not. And the idea that your sense of style & complexion normally follows when you change country is evident - more expressive in make-up & clothing & pale skin. My mom likewise told me that I looked better when I'm pale & I have always loved sunbathing & getting a golden color.

My style in clothes has always been discreet & classic. I have never been expressive in make-up nor in the way I dress. My aunts told me that I look younger without make-up & I just occasionally put some because I am too lazy to wash it off before going to bed. From branded clothes & shoes before I got married to total generic filled cabinet & shoe rack - my discreet black shirt doesn't need a brand & I am seriously thinking of putting more colors in my cabinet.

Change is evident. It is growth. We cannot look the same as 20 years ago. But I'll never know why it is always expected in a new place & after a long absence. Maganda siya ngayon. Does it really say something on where we are in life?

In changing wardrobe, will my mom tell me next year, "Wow, you really look like you came from France!"

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