(up)rooting

i have had several departures and returns in the past few years; each one reminding me of how transient my life. such living arrangement has always been a part of me, and i thought i've already accepted it.

my parents brought me up in an environment where my world is not fixed in one location. they shipped me back and forth in the cusp of two cities; and when they realized it's not enough, they decided to add another on my list of 'hometowns'. they also supported the idea of greater mobility on my part when i decided to pursue a career in the academe, where i'll be forced to wander in different places until the end of my chosen path.

such set-up had been greeted with a welcoming thought until my recent visit to manila. i think seeing my family and friends, and hearing their stories made me rethink of whatever feeling i've had about this transient life. listening to their stories reminded me of how i'm missing out on a lot of things. i have been stripped off the privilege to be with my family, to form a long, deep, and meaningful relationship with my friends, and even to settle down with someone.

moreover, my fragmented self was suddenly highlighted and its ironies further amplified in my trip. i can no longer shift from one part of myself to another in an instant. in fact,  the high-glamour and comfortable lifestyle in manila (and even in the states) are still in me as i am writing this entry in singapore.

obviously, i am once again ranting about the life i've chosen (or was imposed on me). okay, enough... back to my review.

repost: misstep

one of the posts i was able to save from my previous blog...

i've dug myself a hole and hidden myself from most of my friends. that is why, for the past few months, i've only shown myself to a handful of people. and because of my sudden disappearance, those who had the chance to see me asked for an answer to my sudden elusiveness towards people: "why don't you want to see some of your friends? have you become an anti-social? are you mad at them? what's wrong with you?" well, the only answer i gave them was: "i think i'm having some kind of a withdrawal syndrome."

i think most of the people who heard my answer didn't understand what i meant by "withdrawal syndrome." my close friend in nyc thought i was referring to homesickness, while a friend in manila thought it's just one of my so-called 'postmodern attitudes'. most of them interpreted the term as a  usual vicissitude that you get from transferring from one place to another, and it's actually quite sad that none understood me at all. none of them realized that singapore has made me see change the way i see my life; that i've finally gone beyond mundanity.

i've been living a life in constant transit since i was a kid, but never have i had this need to burrow myself away from (most of) my friends. when i went back to manila from irvine, never did it occur to me to keep myself away from my childhood friends. then, when i went to nyc for 9th grade, i was actually eager to see my friends in irvine again. that's why i flew there twice that year just to see my friends again. but now, i just do not sense that need to see my friends here again. in fact, i want to be away from most of them. i want to be clear, however, that it's not because i don't want to be friends with them anymore, nor do i want to live an isolated life. rather, i'm just tired of performing that shallow identity that i need to act out whenever i'm with (most of) my friends.

in uni, i got acquainted with judith butler. i learned that gender is something that we perform... even our very own sexuality. so being male is not really congenital, but rather it's reified and solidified by constantly performing what it is to be male. this notion of performance that creates our sexuality, i believe, can also be applied to our other identities. however, the scariest part is that these performances are regulated by several social institutions such as schools, goverment policies, and even our social circles. we always have to perform based on what is expected from that identity, or else we'd end up subverting it -- worse, considered as abnormal for betraying the routines that we're expected to follow.

going back to manila and nyc (even for just a while) meant performing the very identities i have in those places. i needed to go back to my old self because i already have a well-established name there. my name entails a specific script, routines, blocking, and even rhythm that i always need to follow in order to still be me. this means that i need to experience the lifestyle that suits the plot of my already-expected performance; and if i decide not to use those routines, then people would think i've gone mad or something. worse, i'll be reprimanded and ridiculed by the very social institutions that are supposed to ensure i won't end up subverting the so-called 'accepted' identity i have.

however, i don't want to see myself doing those steps and lines anymore. my singapore experience has allowed me to realize how empty those performances in my so-called familar places are. the need to perform based on your social status, class, and even race has been challenged and even repudiated by the beauty of performing a life in anonymity. and i guess that's the reason why i've been in hiding since i decided to settle down in singapore. as what my friend told me: "you're trying to boycot the need to perform by not seeing most of your friends;" and i think she's right. i am probably doing my own silent protest against the need to perform based on what is expected from you.

am i going crazy? is my protest justified at all? i really don't know, however, i'm sensing that postructuralism is slowly creeping in once again. yes, this, i think, is my cheap attempt at deconstruction.

of love and other demons

i worry that i am stretching myself too thinly, and yet it's my own desires that put me in such a difficult situation. funny as it may sound, but the very dreams i have for myself have become the bane of my existence. i am now forced to do my phd applications as i finish my thesis at the same time. moreover, i am compelled to leave my new found friends as what i did to my long-time comrads when i embarked on this quest for higher learning. then, i am required to make a vow of poverty as i start to adjust to the low-paying profession of teaching.

i wonder if it's the same for other people. are our dreams the same as our nightmares?