"Smart, emotive blog"

Said Lauren Cerand of Cupcake Reading Series, one of my favorite literary blogs. Of course, she also labeled her October 28, 2004 entry as "Cheap Literary Thrills" and reposted an excerpt from my October 12, 2004 post. Please read it, I can't believe it myself.

This Google discovery came right in time.

I just came from a long holiday from Tagaytay, spending Christmas and New Year's away from everything and everyone. Despite all that, despite all the rest, I feel I came back to Makati all empty. I was supposed to recharge, but my internal Motolite needs changing.

For fun, for self-deprecation, self-immolation, let's dissect Lauren's remark.

Smart: I can put together coherent sentences, even entire paragraphs, with very few misspellings. Perhaps decent typist, with amateur editing skills. I have a wide enough vocabulary and attempts at some irony, along with other simple literary tricks. I claim to be bisexual, very cosmopolitan, contemporary. I also claim to be literary and design-sensitive.

Emotive: Not only good in the head, but also in the heart. As opposed to "emotional", which is a bad word that alludes to "hysterical"--a very bad word. Women can't call other women hysterical. Hysteria is a phallocentric concept, not for us babes. Therefore, "emotive"--a way to hint that I like to talk a lot about my feelings, that like to complain and be obtuse and difficult, that I curse, that I can let it all hang out. That I can ramble on and on without making sense--while being "smart".

I don't want to diss you, dear Lauren.

I want to put your remark in context. I am thrilled by your three small words and proudly claim it. It affirms my own ideal for this endeavor. A cheap thrill, as you would say.

At the end of it all, I left with myself, on the other side of the world, in the third world. Our tsunamis are nothing compared to your recent mudslides. We are a blip in your radar. The 12 people that died in California is bigger news than the hundreds of thousands that are dead and missing in our part of the world.

I am Makati, I am the Philippines, I am ravaged Asia.

I am at that time of the night where I have nothing to look forward to, nothing to wake up for. The days are all the same. This new year is the same as last.

At the end of it all, I left with myself and whatever energy is left for me to write in this goddam blog.

Pause with me.

Like this.

Sigh.

And nod.

I feel lost, as lost as when I started this blog months ago. But I say this with no sentimentality or nostalgia, with no emotion. This is a practical matter for me. What do I do with my time? How do I build my energy?

Sex can only go so far. And I don't want any commitment or any complicated relationship. I just want my space, my paper, and my pencil. A computer and Internet access, my occasional lover, a cat who feeds himself. I want a view of the beach. No TV. No radio. No watches or clocks. I want no world, except for mine. I am not a social worker, I am not selfless, I am not who you think I am.

I am not smart or emotive. I am angry and tired and frustrated, and so is this blog. I am seething. I am a fault line, ready to shift. God help me.