Kathang-isip

Are you a Heavy Thinker?

This is not my work. I just found this in a website without the author’s name. I’d like to share it with you because I had a good laugh after reading it.

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then to loosen up. Inevitably though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker.

I began to think alone - "to relax," I told myself - but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself.

I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"

Things weren't going so great at home either. One evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's.

I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker. One day the boss called me in. He said, "Skippy, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job." This gave me a lot to think about.

I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking..." 

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip a quiver. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently, and she began to cry. I'd had enough. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche, with a PBS station on the radio. I roared into the parking lot and ran up to the big glass doors... they didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinker's Anonymous poster.

Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video;  last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed ... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.

Thanking
The Imperfect

Last
Part

I
believe that I am a poster boy of some “not-so-better” taste. I seldom shave, except
my head (Fact: I grew my goatee 5 inches in 2000) , unintentionally wear the
wrong attire on occasions that call for different garment, curse a lot and say
the wrong things a lot of times. I’ve jumped from one school to another before
I earned my degrees. I flunked a lot in school because I did not follow
instructions. Test papers have very simply instructions – write the correct
answer. I screwed up that simple instruction by answering incorrectly and wasn’t
surprised with the results. My presence alone in a crowd of ivy-leaguers and
trust fund babies shocks them. There was one time when a Chinese man in a Chinese
Catholic Church in  Mindanao became restless
when I went there to hear mass. I think he thought that I was a Muslim scout
looking for kidnap candidates. I later explained that I was a seminarian
assigned to assist the priest. In the same vein, I was also mistaken for an
“up-to-no-good” person in the borders of some Asian countries. Singapore
immigration is worse. They even ordered me to show my wallet or credit card and
made me promise to exit Singapore
before my visa expires.

I get a
lot of laughs telling those stories. I get a lot of their opinion of me by
listening to the sound of the cracks in their laughter. Some were laughing at
the story. Some were at me. I didn’t mind. With ample amount of certainty, I
sensed that some were grateful for not looking and acting like me. I bet those
stories of my misadventures gave some of them a curve on their lips before they
sleep. They may unconsciously thank all of us who do not act according to their
sophistication but knowingly accept the benefits we, the people they felt sorry
for, provide. We give them all the satisfaction of feeling normal. I may laugh
at my slip-ups and physique for personal reasons but my laughter is a devotion to
my imperfection which makes me… “me”. I thank you, the imperfect. I thank me,
the imperfect.

Thanking The Imperfect

First
of Two Parts

We find
unconscious and silent gratification every time we see other people’s
misfortune. Being good persons that we wanted to appear, we mustered the
courage and will-power not to show it. Talking about another person’s
misfortune or blunders give us this sense of righteousness and a temporary
glow of faultlessness show on our faces. We need not admit this for it will
just spoil the sanctity of our best kept secret – our bigotry.

Our
vice for self-consciousness leaves us empty though feeling satisfied. But the
vice for honesty is something we refuse to accept. Our and other people’s
suffering is the sole cause of our consciousness. We only become aware of what
we are capable or incapable of when we suffer. This detestable vice has also
become our greatest misfortune for we haven’t genuinely become aware of our
very selves. The cycle of self-affirmation, prejudice and misguided certainty
has kept us from understanding our very own person.

Our day
begins by checking our self-esteem level. We swell it by keeping our routine of
dump-shower-brush and the laborious make-over from jammies to suits. This is
with the hope that it will somehow pay-off. Days will pass us by catching
images of human weaknesses, frailty and unacceptability of others. This gives
us the nonexistent smile. Our self-esteem is the most nursed part of our psyche
and it regularly receives ample doses of pictures of human imperfections to
keep it healthy. Images of poverty, suffering, addiction, abnormality and other
people’s inability to do the “right” thing come handy all the time. The constant
nourishment of our self-esteem eventually gives birth to its legitimate children
– prejudice and hate.

I’d
rather we thank those who shock us with words and actions. Those we consider
ill-mannered and lack social graces. Those who pick their noses in public, fart
while dining, curse more than talk or practically everyone who appear to
subscribe to “lower” standards of talking, acting and breathing than ours. They
deserve our gratitude once in a while for at the end of the day, their actions
give us this feeling of content being in a vague better societal stratum. Their
manners affirm our “faultless” character. Their lapses rejuvenate our vigilance
to “proper” demeanor. What they lacked multiplies what we assumed to have. (End
of Part I)

My
Enemy

Dekyo

I
can safely say that I have more friends than enemies. I do treasure both
unequally and make sure that I follow Sun Tzu’s advice to keep friends close
and enemies closer. My reasons for having enemies vary. It may be logical and
personal or it comes with the territory being in a group some people hate. Getting instant friends and enemies by being
in a group is sure as the sunset. I’m fine with it. But not then when I still
see the world inhabited by innately good people.

My
brother once said that a friend of everybody is a friend of nobody. From that
day forward, I stopped wasting time and effort trying to be good and friendly to all
acquaintances I have and will have because at the end of the day, we all have
to take a side and stay there no matter what. I decided to put more effort in being in touch with old good friends and
ignore those who do not like me in the first place. They’re of no use to me
anyway. The constant worrying of what people will say to me came at a
screeching halt that day.

I
like to hang out with friends. My behavior before them may vary. I do it consciously because I have to keep up with them sometimes. We all do that in
a reflex sort of type way. We still act like school boys when with friends from
way back but act a bit or a lot different in front of those we met
professionally. It’s us as a specie trying to survive acting out of instinct. We
all long for companionship because we do not want to be alone with ourselves, almost
certainly because we are our worst enemy. We just hate to be with the
very person who thinks like us and practically knows every secret we have.

Our
very “self” is the most arrogant and
pushy person we’ll ever know. We argue with it every second of the day. That’s why
being with friends or companion is a good thing for the very reason that our “self” will somehow agree with a person
other than us. In all probability I say that it may be the reason for the exponential
increase of dog lovers in the last 10 years. “Man’s best friend” they say maybe because a dog will do just what
he wants and we can’t do anything about it but licks our face all the time..then we feel indebted to the canine.
Dogs are the exact opposite of our own “self”
making the dog a perfect companion. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs. I have
one. It’s a fad thing that prompted me to get one myself. Robert Fulghum said that if you want people to dislike you, tell them you hate dogs. That’s why i’m very careful with my statements but remain honest with the fad part. 

It’s
a real occurrence that people are getting lonelier by the day. People are
feeling lethargic by the minute because of their alleged lack or decreasing
self-esteem. More and more people are losing another human being’s attention with
the dawn of modern technology making the human race more vulnerable to cross
breeding or even organic-cross breeding (if there’s one). And I do not want to be present when that day finally comes. My own
specie is fine, thank you very much.

We
all hate ourselves because if we do not, we won’t be doing some stuff to
inflate our self-esteem by accessorizing our life with material things. I
detest those life coaches who tell their clients to tell themselves “I love myself” – Newsflash Carter,
that’s not going to happen. We will forever hate ourselves and that hatred will
not be miraculously taken away by tantric repetition. The least we could do is
to come to terms with our “self” and
move on. We could only compromise and make our enemy-self an ally sometimes.

The
poignant fact about this obvious hatred to our very self is misdirection. My
enemy is my “self” and not anybody
else for I can’t be an enemy of another while hating the real and honest ally I’ll
ever have.  We tend to blame and hate other people  while  our very "self" laughs at us for being so dumb not to see our  own faults and end up deflecting our anger but at the same time convinced that we were wronged.

Unconditional

Dekyo

11 February 2007

I was washing my hands at a Mc Donald’s
store in Kemang,South Jakarta  one day when I
over-heard (In Bahasa) a young couple discussing the virtue of giving without
expecting anything in return. The young man, obviously trying to get into the
pretty lady’s pants, had the tone of sincerity and certitude of every word he
uttered. I murmured audibly “Lolokohin ka
lang nyan!”. They gave me the look. I smiled. I know they can’t understand
tagalog. My message wasn’t intended to be relayed.

All of us must have given a thing, money,
favor or affection to a friend, family member or even a complete stranger. We
may have forgotten most of the giving, but not those where we didn’t expect to
be repaid. We somehow remember how blessed we were at that very moment and
extending some help, as we justified it, won’t hurt. But have we honestly given
somebody something and expected nothing? I seriously doubt if you have. Because
I haven’t.

Every time we give, we naturally expect
something in return. It is but an absolute, irrefutable and inescapable fact.
Human nature tells us to expect and no one has ever proved false the very
nature we are made of. People always expect. We are the only creature in this
planet that is ungrateful and expect at all times.

When I give, I expect something. A bit
unpleasant to hear but true. To expound and complete my malevolent statement, I
say: When I give, I expect something FROM MYSELF AND NOT FROM OTHERS. Confused?
Don’t be.

Giving without expecting anything in return
is not a fair statement to ourselves and to other people. We give and always expect,
consciously or not, that we will feel good. That’s the very meaning of altruism. We give to affirm any belief we
have or strengthen the moral fiber we have been molded in to. If you tell me
that it is possible not to expect, then a vertebrae or two may have slipped and
choked some wires at your back. Don’t tell me that those who donate are not
getting anything because they all get something. You may want to look at some
deeds of donation or the Internal Revenue Code where you can clearly find the
words; “.. For and in consideration of love and affection” and “Tax Deductions”
respectively.

If we give and expect nothing, then we are
not being truthful to our nature. When we give, we must not deprive ourselves
with self-pats on the shoulder. It is not immoral to tell ourselves “I did
good”. What makes giving detestable is when the press is invited. For the
record, I hate those pictures with big checks and captions that say this man
gave this much for these people. I hate Mr. Yap of MB because of those gruesome
pictures. I admire his embalmer though for making him look alive in the
pictures.

I do not believe in the term
“unconditional” when used as an adjective. Everything has conditions. The
difference lies on its fairness and honorable purpose. I say we must give to
the needy. But if the neediest is the very self (physically, emotionally or
financially), then give it to yourself. If one gives while being needy but not the
neediest at the same time, it is virtue. But giving with unfair conditions or dishonorable
purposes is serving a curse inside a candy.

What Do You Think?

Everybody has an opinion on just about anything.  If a topic calls for an opinion, were there. If it calls for scientific or mathematical answer, were gone. Well, for most of us. We express our opinions openly. It is actually not for the pleasure of sharing our thoughts but for others to see the better or worst part of us.

I haven’t met any person so opinionated than my barber. Second to him are taxi drivers. They replaced the “cocheros” who tell yeasted stories. My barber listens to a.m. radio the whole day. He’s always updated with the news thru TV, tabloid and of course, a.m. radio. Whenever I come to his crammed shop, he’s always presiding a parliamentary session. His counterparts are there to resolve an issue that must have kept them awake the previous night. It’s important for them to articulate their opinion and subject it to scrutiny and confirmation of next week’s tabloids.

He talks a lot and fast. His mouth moves faster than the snipping of the scissors. Having my hair cut by this man is a gamble both for my life and looks. But what can I do? I cannot say anything that will upset his professional understanding on cutting hairs or say contradicting statements to a man holding a sharp object and the very person who circumcised me when I was in 4^th grade. I owe my very transition to adult life to my barber. That reason alone would make my mouth shut like a locked vault. I just go there and pray for the safety of my ears and go home to thank God over and over for looking over my shoulders.. literally. After a quick bath to take off small hairs that fell inside my shirt, I’ll find my head in a disproportionate state. My barber only gives refund if he cuts your ear. And he doesn’t want his cataracts removed also.

I find it amusing how people say a piece of their mind. They may have factual basis or a little of it. They explain, expound and postulate clearly and convincingly. But they refuse to do anything about it. I find it odd to hear people brag that his idea made a lot of difference. I say if one thinks his idea is good then prove it yourself. D-I-Y. The result is the best proof. Ideas will remain in the world of ideas unless it is concretized and the smallest deed can cover the grandest idea or intention.

This is the very reason why I prefer absolute monarchy as a form of government than any other form. Second is meritocracy. Those with royal blood can rule. Others cannot. I don’t care if they marry each other and prefer in-breeding. That’s none of my business. In a country where royalty is respected and social class is clear, places under the sun are well defined. I don’t mind if I were a slave, carpenter or a street sweeper. At least I know where I stand or what my limits are. It would be nicer though if I’ll be related to the king. In a class determinable society, everybody knows what he is supposed to do and TO WHOM and not “TO WHAT” he is answerable to. Laws are the “TO WHAT” I’m referring to. It’s too vague and abstract that we seldom fear it at all. We are programmed to fear someone or at least something with suitable representation from infancy. Why confusingly change it? Imagine scolding a kid and telling him “lagot ka sa batas!”.  Will he listen? Your answer is as good as mine.

I just hope that someday, despite differences of opinion, people will just do what he is supposed to do. If I’ll be a janitor, then I’ll be good at being one and forget about politics. Cab drivers be just cab drivers bringing people home or to the office and give change. Also, for barbers to just cut hairs properly. Our comprehension of our essential function in a system, no matter how big or small, has its significance in our society. Failing to do so will just make us useless cogs that must be removed. Otherwise, the social structure will either fall or drag itself to obsolescence.

In our world where eloquence of opinion is the new truth, we may never experience authentic evolution and progress. Truth has become a matter of opinion of the elite and popular with interests to protect. It is also the century’s biggest merchandise. Our opinion is good only when solicited. Nowadays, I’d rather engage in senseless conversations with a waiver of authenticity. Short of saying BS talks only. Like TV programs where they say that the opinion of this person is not the view of the station.. something a little like that. What do you think?

About The Girl

Dekyo

I read the “Da Vinci Code” when it was still warming up. Watched the movie a number of times and saw its documentaries in both Discovery and Nat Geo channels. I read some of its off-shoots like the supposed decoding or falsity of Dan Brown’s research. They were all written perfectly and have kept my eyes glued on every letter printed.  Conspiracies after conspiracies make good coffee table talks especially in Starbucks where people try to sound smart all the time or appear so busy that they have to work while having coffee. Their laptops however show friendster and chat rooms.  We all love to hear conspiracies but are not prepared to know its truthfulness. Staying in a “what if” center island excites us and crossing it seems sad. The thrill for the ride is relished than the ultimate goal of arriving at the destination. That’s probably why I often see smiles on people rushing to cross a busy street.

The most fascinating thing about conspiracies is that it is often (too often) about a woman or somehow involves a woman. From Eve’s indiscretion and Delilah’s betrayal of Samson to Monica Lewinsky’s and Keana Reeves’ taste for politics or politicians. Translation; Women = ripples.

There is only one conspiracy I do believe in and that is the superiority of man. I say with absolute certainty and without fear for reprisals from the male specie that women are superior. Evidence saying so are staring at our eyes from the moment of creation or evolution.

Great builders of buildings and structures that make our jaws drop are men. Armies for conquest and dominion are lead by men. The male specie has done great works in history worthy of praises or has done great spinning of circumstances to bury the role, importance and superiority of women. After all the constructions were made and battles won, the head honcho remains insecure for he cannot produce another form of life. He can only contribute but not give birth. This is probably why Alexander the great, Napoleon Bonaparte, J. Edgar Hoover and even The Fuhrer were rumored to be homosexuals. All of them didn’t even father a child.

In almost all professions, women are present. I detest the Armed Forces’ discriminatory practices against women especially for combat duty. Why not engage the very people who know how to bleed for 4-5 days every month but still survive? Men who get wounded in battle get a medal. Women who bleed profusely but stay working in a military office only gets the “PMS” joke.

I think the advocacy for gender equality was not started by a female, but by a very smart male adept with history and evolution. It is only to keep women happy by giving a notch higher status from the old and usual inferiority before she causes another historic unrest. It is analogous to what elephant jockeys do. They programmed the big creature to think that they’re weak and insignificant because if they realize their own strength, they’ll just make human pancakes out of the jockey who whipped and chained him for a long time. I won’t be surprised if another male will change the advocacy to superiority of women once fatigue in maintaining the illusory superior status kicks in.

I know a lot of the husky boys there will not agree with me.  Women may agree or submissively disagree with what I’m saying. I didn’t say all of these to draw together support or disgust. I don’t even care who’s superior between the sexes. What I care about is the realization of the complementariness of both species. The superiority of one is not equivalent to dominance and control but partnership and inter-dependence. This is not counter chauvinism but only a story about the girl.

Notes From The Label

Dekyo

15 January 2007

Last Part

“My world is a supermarket” may not be a respectable, if not worse and remotely scientific or philosophical paradigm of what my little world is and deserves miniscule attention. It may also appear to be an over-simplification. But it somehow gives me a clearer picture of my own world free from any intellectual (at times egoistical) scrutiny of sociologists, psychologists, economists, presidents and Jessica Zafra or Conrado de Quiros. I’m no prolific writer or a person with diplomas and awards as wall. But this parallelism I created for my own indulgence works well for me and makes me understand myself.

The minutes I spent in the supermarket may not give me the “eureka” moment for my continued search for the most suitable treatment of people. I hardly care. It is but a ceaseless journey towards realization of my very self. The supermarket is my simulator of what could lie outside. Crude, but somehow effective.(I think)

Gliding on the aisles and shelves of supermarkets is something not all of us enjoy. Except riding the carts when we were young. Looking at labels may just be some routine or sincere acts with definitive purpose.  We must not forget though, that supermarkets have closing time. We are all passers-by in the supermarket… in this world or little world we created. To genuinely strive to know and experience the individuality of ourselves, family, friends and acquaintances require more than reading the outside labels and packaging. What lies underneath the sleeve is something that the labels cannot fully describe and for us to comprehend altogether. What lies in the deepest recesses of the thoughts and hearts of our family, friends and even enemies are something we may marvel at when explored, discovered or shown.

Our routine attention to the label or packaging is not enough. Also, the blurred, etched and hard to find numbers may be printed that way on purpose. It must hit us hard to consequently know the limited time we and the people around us have to adequately know each other. The moment we finally see those numbers will come not as a surprise but a cold comprehension that we all are also subject to expiration dates.. my wondering came at a sudden halt.

Notes From The Label

Dekyo

12 January 2007

First of Two Parts

Before I buy something from the supermarket, I usually read the label and expiration date. This habit was formed consciously or just to give others the impression that I am a smart consumer. I noticed however that looking for the expiration date requires some effort. Finding that small, blurred and etched number is, at times, taxing. I began to wonder.

Goods on supermarket shelves are stacked systematically. Those at the middle shelves are likely to be purchased than those at the top or bottom. Aisles for different classes of goods are arranged for efficiency and strategy. High-end goods, at times, are in dimly-lit, medium-sized rooms with useless decors and ornaments. I can’t help but notice that the “junk food” section has the most number of shelves in all supermarkets. I’m fairly guessing that a lot of kinds and types of food without real nutritional value are patronized and we are all suckers for it.

People are like grocery items. Some are for daily consumption or use (bread or toiletries), to spice things up, to make us feel important or cultured (shockingly expensive goods), to make us feel good or happy (sugar, candies and chocolates) and some are simply …junk.

I began to imagine the faces of people I know printed on grocery items in a Paul Newman cans and bottles fashion. I also categorized them akin to the supermarket system of segregation. I was fair though, but really rude on people I loathe. I placed their faces, with delight, on scrap cardboard boxes on the floor. J I was completely honest and fair to this process and to my surprise; I saw only few faces on the “junk food” section or simply failed to recall the damn faces of people I know who are either like maggots or mongrels to me. Though, a lot of faces were either on bread or toiletries.

To be in the bread and toiletries section is not bad by the way in case you inquire. It is one of the “useful and necessary” sections. Without it, the day would lack comfort. Same as people we hold dear. I just wish that I’ll be in the bread section in the “supermarket world” of most people I considered as friends. It doesn’t matter if I’ll be placed on the bottom, middle or top. What matters is that I’m one of those things (people) that my friends will somehow go back to and be considered useful (not necessarily necessary) to them – personally, emotionally or professionally. Permanence not required. 

Arriving home with bags of groceries is a relief in itself. Buying groceries may not be a gargantuan task but it’s nonetheless an accomplishment. Taking out from the plastic bag and stacking them neatly in my shelves one after the other has its accompanying drum roll for the emergence of that item we usually buy for kicks. An item or two we buy out of curiosity, habit or some reason other than logical necessity. I think most of us do that – buying something out of the essential and having this absolute opinion during or after consuming it. Like the; “oh-that’s-why-it’s-on-sale” or “this-is-better-than-the-old-one” opinion. Guilty? Sure hell I am. (End of Part I)