11/07/2016
The confessional is dead

Okay, maybe not. Pinoy Big Brother is still on, and new housemates just went in, and they'll still have to speak about their innermost thoughts, or something, to a disembodied, distorted voice in some room.

Then again, that is the exception. They don't really have much of a choice but to speak about those innermost thoughts. It's the format. It's what powers the whole enterprise. It's what gives the overloads the material to edit all that footage one way or another. And besides, they get something from it, provided they play their cards right and the millions of people watching love them enough to want them to get ahead of them (further, in some cases) in life.

Set all that aside, and the confessional is dead.

Watch someone cry his heart out. He's going through all this pain, and all he wants is to catch a break. "Eh, he's mugging for the cameras," you might say. "He does not deserve any of the prizes."

She's not exactly crying, but she's talking about some traumatic moment in her life. She's laying it all out, keeping her composure, but opening the door more widely than she usually would. "Why is she revealing all of this now?" you might say. "She just wants the attention."

By all means, you're just tolerating Pinoy Big Brother at best.

The confessional is dead. The concept that powered through everything for the past couple of decades or so is dead, killed by people who have had enough and somehow managed to strangle it with their outward indifference. Suddenly, talking about what you exactly feel, no matter how much effort it actually took for you to get it out - because, I don't know, external circumstances? - is a bad thing. Unless, of course, it's whatever positivity means.

I just noticed my spell checker does not know the word "positivity". I always swore it's a word.

Anyway, the exception, of course, is positivity. Sure, I concede that we may have flooded the world with the sordid details of our every heartbreak, our every disappointment, our every crushing defeat. We can't be having that all over now, yes? So fuck the confessional! Er, I mean, screw the confessional! Screw the means that allow people who want the spotlight all to themselves to actually have the spotlight all to themselves! And just by telling their stories? They're not even exerting the effort! Why the f... I mean, why do they deserve it?

Also, positivity! Positivity! No spell checker can stop us!

I've been having a hard time writing on this blog lately. I don't know if you've noticed it. I have. It's not just because I've been busy lately. It's not just because I now tend to spend days, weeks, even months writing something in my head before committing it - and that whole process does not guarantee anything. I think a big chunk of it is because I'm not sure if anybody cares about what I say. Perhaps I'm quite certain that nobody cares about what's going on in my life.

I know people who still blog about their lives, but then, they are cloaked in some degree of anonymity. For some reason, I no longer have that. I never sought to become a celebrity of sorts - I still don't understand what Marcia meant when she said I am more famous than I think I am, and yes, that was almost a decade ago - but, well, here I am. People may know me through different names, but people know me. They may not be watching now, but they will be watching the moment I say something they do not like.

To them, I say: please do not read this blog's archives. They're humiliating as hell.

Sure, I have not written that sort of thing in years. I think I've refined my approach - and yes, I know I cuss more on here lately. (Fuck. I mean, screw.) But whenever I start that process of writing in my head about something that's been bothering me lately, I tend to stop and wonder whether people will think I'm just screaming to get attention. Apparently asking to be noticed is a bad thing now, I guess, because it's like you're demanding to have their time and they absolutely don't want to give it to you because why the fuck would they? Who are you? Who are they? Who am I? Who are you? I'm just a guy who writes partly extemporaneously, like I am right now, because my fingers are uncontrollable and I've wanted to say this for a while now, or, perhaps, I've wanted to say this again, just to prove a point. You? You intimidate me, greatly, and yet I still try, I still fucking try, for reasons I have really yet to comprehend.

And so I stop, think, and perhaps stop again, because nobody cares about what you feel. Unless, of course, positivity. Positivity! No unplanned writing can stop us!

They always encourage us to say what we think, say what we feel. They also always order us to shut up. Positivity. Is it positivity if you hurt people along the way in the quest for a happier-looking world?

And your responses...

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