The megaphone

Sometimes when I write a post in this blog, it feels as if I'm talking to no one. That I'm just a small squeak amongst the thundering voices around me.

It's red. I like red.

Sometimes I miss the activity. The buzz of comments around my posts, the countless eyes that read my thoughts and my cryptic messages. I was quite the popular kid when I was in elementary, so I took this for granted. Because everyone had their eyes on me. Because in the same school where I studied, my mom was a teacher. Because I was favored, studied, liked, investigated. Every move I make is observed.

The attention was all mine.

And now, here I am, writing to a blog that anyone barely notices. Like in the real world, my voice is a dot in the myriad dots that punctuate the internet. A small contributor to the vast knowledge of society, the massive archive of human thoughs and feelings, all within the bits and bytes of the digital world.

But maybe then I liked the solace. Maybe, I liked how only I can read my blogs, that it just serves as a personal archive of my own thoughts, unblemished by the pressure of pleasing my audience everytime I click Publish. That in my own little space on the internet, I could be me.

Then I shrug all these thoughts, and think, Whether my blog is popular or not, I still have trouble expressing my feelings plain and bare on the internet, anyway. That I still hide my thoughts in cryptic forms, that I still take pleasure in bewildering my readers so as for them not to have an actual glimpse of what I'm talking about.

Cucumbers.

Good luck finding the meaning behind that. In the end, it doesn't matter how popular or unpopular I am, it's whether or not I trust anyone with my thoughts that matter.

Pizza. 

Unspoken words and inducted thoughts

Many have I written blogposts that touch a specific topic so personal I feel that writing them is an invasion of my personal space. If my drafts folder ever get published, you'd view me as a different person.

I mean, this blog *is* meant to be personal, it's just that some things I want to talk about are not really the stuff you would like to say to a random stranger across the street. Just think of it this way: would you just go up to a random passerby and interject, "I'm going commando today!"? I don't think so.

But then, I'm not implying that my personal, most private thoughts consist of my preference for wearing underwear, or lack thereof, but it just goes to show that I need someone to tell stuff to, without prejudice or any other judgment. A confidant. A breathing journal. And probably, a friend.

I have written posts about trust and love and freedom and independence, but they never see the light of day. Probably I was playing the role of the cryptic connoisseur a bit too much, probably my real intentions are muddled up in a sea of confusing lexicon that nobody would understand. But then again, nobody *would* understand. I'm a Scorpio, the most secretive, most misunderstood sign of the zodiac.

I was once punished for my own honesty. Writing my thoughts down led me into serious trouble, something that reminded me of pain and crying and all that desperation. Then I vowed never to write my emotions again: that never would I ever put my feelings down on a piece of paper where everyone could read it. I must lock up all my feelings in my mind, compose long blog posts in the recesses of my consciousness, where only I could read.

I have stories I dare not tell anyone. Not publicly, at least. I think it's justified for me to think that everybody has one: that one fact about them that they don't want just about anyone to know. Like a vegetarian who adores bacon, or a football player who longs for the loving comfort of a gentle woman. Unlike others, though, I don't have anyone to share it with. But probably I didn't need one anyway.

If only opening the lock was this easy.

But maybe I *do* have someone, I just don't trust them enough. Probably, somewhere out there, one of the people I know are having the exact same thoughts as I do, just waiting for someone like me to trust them with all of their spirit. An unbreakable friendship. Where you tell someone that one thing that will destroy you and trust them not to use it against you.

I don't think I'm even making a persuasive blogpost here. I just wanted to write what I feel about things, which is not my forte, because coming from a scientific background, I always write something with a conclusion. Not all this sappy boo-hooing shit you're reading right now. Is it ever so wrong for me not to just tell anyone how my day went and not go delving into waist-deep philosophical ramblings about life? Probably not.

I guess being cryptic has its disadvantages after all. By hiding my emotions, my real intentions, in the comforting illusion of deception, I shut myself out to the world. Then I go like this, complaining how no one understands me. It's probably my fault then, being so shut out to the people who want to reach out their hands to me, to offer their listening ear to my stories, because maybe, just maybe, one of the people I know sees me as an infinitely interesting person, one whose stories never get stale.

Something nags at me and tells me I might be right. Maybe it's time to break the lock. It might be weird, but I'll try. At least if this blog doesn't work, I hope I have someone to tell it to. I don't say "find" someone because I may have found him/her and not just realized it, but still.

Here's to hopefully getting my trust in the world back again.

Star light, star bright.

This is the Pleiades. It is so bright it can be seen even in the busiest cities of the world.

Only thing is, this star cluster is so far away that light itself takes 391 years to reach Earth. Yes, when we look at the Pleiades, we are looking at the light of a star cluster which is older than us.

Even the Sun is quite far away. The light of the Sun takes 8 minutes to reach Earth.

The closest star from our solar system, Proxima Centauri, is so still so far (4 light-years) that if you made a scale model of the Sun with a radius of 30cm, Proxima Centauri needs to be 8514 kilometers away to be accurate. The distance between New York and Los Angeles is 3961 kilometers.

Stars shine so bright and they illuminate our night sky. But what's actually happening is we're looking back in time. Looking at the Pleaides means looking at the light generated 391 years ago. These are the lights of a time way before us, back in the day when we were still young, or probably nonexistent.

And who knows, the star might be a supernova now and we wouldn't even know. If Proxima Centauri dies, we would not know it did until 4 years after, when its light stops shining.

So all these years--since when?--he had been seeing the light of dead stars, long extinguished, yet seemingly still in their appointed places in the heavens.

I am looking at a dead star. What I thought was shining for me, beaming at me, is actually the remnant of a love long due. It's the light from years ago, way back, probably even more. I am looking at the light of a dead star, of a love lost and forgotten.

I remember the memories we had, of the good times we shared. They're all gone now, the light of my sweet little star will vanish sometime.

I look out the window and see the light of Pleiades from 391 years ago.And I think to myself,

It's time to move on.

10 Minutes of Funny

Go to YouTube, search for "America's Funniest Home Videos". You'll have like, 10 minutes of funny.

That's what my coworker said to his brother, in the middle of some conversation about some topic I already forgot. Apparently, YouTube has obviously gone to the point where you can get "10 minutes of funny" anytime. It has become the Big Brother of the Internet.

I went to the site just to get some 10 Minutes of Anti-Boredom and I ended up clicking Recommended Video after Recommended Video and what was 10 Minutes of Procrastination became 10 Minutes of Cyber-Eavesdropping. I was basically taking a glimpse out of random people's lives, knowing what they know, feeling what they feel. It was 10 Minutes of Empathy and 10 Minutes of Learning.

YouTube has changed the way people's lives are nowadays. It is in these videos that we take a look at an alternate side of life, something other than ours, something other than the people, places, and events we know. In our 10 Minutes of Discovery, we become shocked at girls throwing a bucket of puppies down rivers, we laugh at obese guys in glasses lip-synching to pop songs by O-Zone, we are amazed by kinda-old people hitting the perfect notes of a Les Miserables song.

It is in these 10 Minutes of Connectedness that we become aware of the world, we learn something, cry at something, or find something so cute we squeeze our computer screen while squealing. YouTube has become a proof that the Internet is more than a network of cables exchanging data; it has become a storage of memories, those that display emotions, passion, and reason. It is a link not between two computers but between the people sitting in front of them. 10 Minutes of Freedom is what we see, a collaborative collection of life's milestones or stumbling blocks, a constantly-changing mosaic of voices from all over the world showing how good or bad it is to live. It is 10 Minutes of Experiences on the Internet.

YouTube has become a real success, getting my attention and actually delving in quite deep thought about it. And after all, after being drenched in all of the day's work, all we need is 10 Minutes of Funny.