Four words

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When I was a kid, my calling card was "imagination".

Perhaps it's because I loved reading through the minutiae published in newspapers. I saw TV schedules. I saw basketball scores. Those sort of things. The next thing I know, I was making schedules for fictional television networks. At six in the evening, News Squad, with three news anchors ending the program with "...and this is News Squad!" while pointing towards the camera, much like Mike Enriquez and Karen Davila did on the very early days of Saksi, when it ran for just fifteen minutes and aired at a quarter to six.

I doodled newspapers as a kid, and if they weren't about what was happening in school, it was about things happening in this alternate reality planet on my head. Somehow I got my classmates in it, too. They had versions of themselves on the lands I made up, just as I had a version of myself. It's hard to explain it here without getting embarrassed now, because I will get detailed, although in hindsight I can never really get detailed, because knowing what I know now, there are a lot of cracks you have to fill, much like the rotation of the planets, and how concepts from this actual world can exist on that world.

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What filter works best with this?

I'm doing this wrong.

I haven't been to Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory in a while. When we discovered their expensive biscuits - which we enjoyed, but treated like dessert from a rarified part of the world, which, well, arguably, Japan is - they were having severe supply chain problems. They would often run out of their items, and there would be a couple of days in a row or so when the staff would be sitting there, doing nothing but telling people that almost everything is out of stock.

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At the very least

I feel complicit.

I have read the stories, the few ones we have been allowed to see, and I feel complicit.

It's an unsettling feeling. Perhaps that is the point. Perhaps that is what I am supposed to feel. Perhaps I must feel unsettled, the way every woman - or at least, those who shared their stories - felt unsettled when they found themselves at the receiving end of an unwanted advance, at the very least an unwanted advance. It's unsettling to think that, despite trying your very best to be respectful - to recognize boundaries, at the very least to recognize boundaries - you are still the perpetrator; you are still the antagonist; you are, and always will be, the monster in the closet.

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Do much more

The kerfuffle over what Joey de Leon said last week somewhat dovetailed nicely to this week, and to today, specifically. Today, apparently, is World Mental Health Day - another one of those days about another one of those things, only this time it's much more pressing than most.

Pressing, because never before have people been more aware of the importance of mental health. Never before has the impact of mental health on individuals been clearer, in a world not just of increased stresses, but of increased connectivity - we know more about each other, in the paradoxical way that we know less about each other. The message could be clearer, finally.

And yet, because of the paradoxical nature of things these days, we know little. Nothing we see is real anymore. Nothing we see is true at first glance. So here I am, writing what I am going to write, and here you are, just listening to what you know will appeal to you.

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