self, identity, existence

Everyone has a story to tell.

Maybe my college friend, poet Ralph Semino Galan, was right when he said -- with apologies to René Descartes -- "I write, therefore I am."

Now, millions of people find their own little nook in cyberspace to tell their stories, assert their identities, define their existence. Their mantra -- again, apologies to Descartes, and also now to Ralph -- "I blog, therefore I am."

Blogging is different things to different people: a liberating experience, an exercise in democracy, and for some, a ritual for healing and self-expression. But as all these -- by no means a definitive list, I'm sure -- does blogging define us? Has it become a measure of identity and existence?

I ask this each time I have the urge to blog. The precious minutes of downtime that can be used for rest or study, I blog away. Not necessarily here, as I have more than one blog, as many bloggers do. The point is that we have associated ourselves so much with our blogs and with the act (and art) of blogging that to some, it is utterly unthinkable not to blog.

Of course, we are bigger than our blogs, our blog topics, and even blogosphere in general. The snippets of life that we manage to capture and note down, recorded in cyberspace -- virtual air, a system of 1's and 0's -- are precious, fleeting, and almost ethereal. But that's all they are: snippets. Life is too big to be encapsulated in a blog. It is too simple to be rendered as code, and too complex to be confined to bytes.

Simply put, a blog may be proof of one's existence -- not unlike a composer being remembered for his music or a painter being known for her art. Seen in this way, we are not only what we blog -- we are when we blog. We are as good as our blogs, with blog stats as our yardstick. We measure our worth by the number of blogs and sites linked to us. Badges and widgets, we wear with pride.

What then, if we are unable to maintain our blogs? Abandoned blogs -- are they like the "old, abandoned shells" in Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince? The prince said there's nothing sad about old, abandoned shells. Can the same be said for abandoned blogs?

What happens to a blog or a site when its owner passes away? Julia Campbell's blog and the MySpace and FaceBook sites of the Virginia Tech students killed last April -- these are indelible proof of lives now gone. They're all that's left of a measure of space-time once spent on this earth. And for us who never knew them, they're desperate ways of connecting, getting to know, and paying tribute.

All this is a long way of saying that this blog may end up like theirs -- abandoned, for a time, as I give up blogging. At least while I work on completing my Master's Project -- which, again, is just another piece of who I am, proof of a facet or phase of my life as MA student.

I may use this blog to take note of my research... but only if time will allow it.

Everyone has a story to tell. And I have a story to write.

faith in media

One night last week, I was chatting with my friend when he said, "Minsan iniisip ko... may naniniwala pa ba sa news? (Sometimes I think... does anyone still believe the news?)"

This intrigued me, so I asked him if it meant he doesn't read/watch/listen to the news anymore -- or if he knows anyone who doesn't.

He thought about it for a while, and said no.

But I knew what he meant -- and I knew he wasn't alone in his sentiment. It wasn't the news he doubted. It was those who report it.

various reactions, one thread
People's distrust for and disenchantment with media are rooted in many things. The feeling that traditional or mainstream media "just don't get it" is one. Sensationalized news is another. "Envelopmental" journalism and other corrupt media practices are yet another.

Filipinos' reactions to media are varied. We are enamored by media personalities -- thus those huge billboards with newscasters advertising the latest product or service -- or distrustful and wary of them. There are Filipinos who applaud journalists and media practitioners, and those who think that anyone with a press card is "dirty." Some have taken advantage of the media to gain mileage and influence. And others, regrettably, have gone as far as to silence members of the press to keep the truth from coming out.

In all these reactions, however, lies a common thread: the recognition that journalists and media practitioners function in the public sphere. Whatever information the media receive, whatever news they gather, is meant for the public. It goes out in the form of a news report or feature that is published or broadcast. The media act as our eyes and ears. They report to us a world that is beyond our immediate sphere of existence.

the need to know
The need to know what's going on in the world or even in our immediate circle is basic. We express this need whenever we greet one another by saying, "What's up?" or "Ano'ng balita?" -- roughly, "What's new?"

The mass media fulfill this need -- or are supposed to, at least. But if we are dissatisfied with the media, then we will increasingly turn to other sources of information and news. With the Internet, we can get news and information from more sources now than we had ever dreamed. And with mobile phones, we can get it much faster than we had ever imagined.

If my friend's sentiment is indicative of how majority of young Filipinos today regard the media, I wonder if faith can be restored. Maybe it's time to reexamine how the media do their job -- and even what job it is they're supposed to do. Otherwise, the mainstream media could lose their audience to the Internet and mobile technology.

news?

Over a million people watched this particular video on YouTube.



What a statement this reporter made. I can't quite imagine this happening on Philippine television, though.