In the press, there are the editors. In the classroom, there’s the professor. And supposedly, in the house, there are the parents. Writing seems to be so guarded and sacred that when internet age comes, armed with blogs (and its other relatives), all aspiring writers applaud. Because in this now-favored outlet, no one directs, no one hinders. Meaning, in cyberspace, there are no editors, no professors, no parents. As blogs prevail, with popularity that never seems to fade, a lot of the discreetly self-proclaimed deep thinkers of the community rise and contradict due to the advent of narcissistic writing.
There is no need to further evaluate and elaborate what this is; blood and tears have been shed enough to understand its intricate nature as to why it has even surfaced from the face of the planet—or more appropriately, extracted from the minds of human beings. Well, I think that’s what personal blogs are for; to provide an alternative for a journal.
There’s too much “pa-concern kuno” in this world (and those who lead this are the “pa-scholar” in the general public), even though the truth of the matter is that each and every one of us has the desire to show what is not usually shown, heard, or felt—or anything that the majority thinks is embarrassing. And this is the reason why quite a number of people (such as I, in some instances) tends to get out of the rut from everyday political, spiritual, and even metaphysical brouhaha. Most often, it is also due to the dreariness of current events that some succumbs to express write-ups in a dark depressing tone, or perhaps emotional which is then condensed into “emo,” as specially classified by the hypocrites. In my opinion, at least there are people who are emotional, who really feel, unlike those who have an emotional capacity of a paper clip. Thus the discussion about the smallest of things, may it be the dirt on a sleeve or a new music video on TV, can provide the buffer needed to continue living as bearable as it can be.
Those who try to suppress this desire in order to live up a yearned status (which makes up a social climber), to create a glossy impression to other people, still fail because in whatever way they sugar-coat their statements with these purportedly academic and mind-stimulating thoughts, they are who they are just trying to be someone else.
These new breed of societal A-list wanabees are also basically jologs; just overly-decorated with jaded eyeglasses or simply armed with a powermouth which rivals that of a National Social Butterfly, and are simply clouded in an air of cerebral superiority that they’d just rant off direct quotations from the book of Immanuel Kant or Karl Marx when they can no longer discuss what’s going on about someone’s personal opinion concerning Boy Abunda’s latest get-up.
If people define what is being sensible by dipping into a conversation about the mysterious smile of McDonalds, the evolution of whatnot in all fields known by mankind, or the economic instability of our nation and take this as their daily lunch chat, well they are better off at Fort Santiago’s dungeons with Beethoven’s deathly sonatas playing endlessly in the cold air in order for their ears to bleed and go deaf so as not to hear any nonsensical stories from nonsensical people or—in this case which calls for the defense of narcissistic writings—go blind so as not to witness air-headed writings from air-headed people (wait, how can music do that… never mind). Clutter in cyberspace? Well, those who are being opposed thinks of the same thing, too, by the way (now, at the least, there’s a similarity between the narcissistic and the theorist). Besides, everything in the web is clutter. What is only important in it is Google AdSense. Also, though their sixth degree synonym of a simple adjective—shockingly transforming “particular” to “circumstantial”—really impresses me for this show of knowledge that exceeds a chimpanzee’s, I remain my composure and set of standards.
If these writings are truly revolting and pathetic, what more is that egotistical response of describing such kind of personal writing in the first place? Don’t people have the right to intricately talk about a drinking session like an ode, or beautifully weave words about the afternoon rain like a poem, or magnificently transform the idea of hatred into a compact vignette? Well, those who do, go on! Continue what you want to say. Preach about the latest ear piercing you’ve got or what brand of undies you are currently wearing. I have been doing this in my very own public blog (no, not those two examples) and if someone comments that I am like a high school drop-out who have read nothing that goes beyond the thickness of an Archie Double Digest magazine, I will slap at their faces the tome of The Great Critics or Science Explained. Point made. The major rule here is to know the limitations. And I know mine.
Primarily, all of us have our respective spaces in the web and so those who cannot help but go bonkers about a blog post that is tagged selfish in their limited mindset, they should travel a thousand years back and live in caves. As a matter of fact, the title of this post should not mention “fascination” but, rather, an “importance.” The alleged ludicrous writing grants online balance: light and heavy, funny and serious, important and the not-so-important-but-relatively-worth-knowing.
We have our own words to say. In the web, there is no intellectual copyright but only intellectual arrogance. Even if I have said this I still cannot change anything, but the bottom line is I have explained. Actually, there is no need to stoop low. Sheesh, I couldn’t believe I am saying these things. If there should have been enough time today, I could have go on about my new hairstyle. Sayang.
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