MIND OVER MUTTER

Here's one of my favorite weird facts: the brain named itself. Take the time to mentally digest that one. Now the brain is thinking about itself having named itself. Pretty neat, eh? (of course, i know it was some other person's brain that named itself, but just play along, you killjoy)

I've always kept this fact handy in case I need to detonate a cranium or two, but I'm automatically reminded of it when my own thinker tanks. Like just a while ago, I opened my phone's browser and hit the Google icon. It loaded the search engine in about 5 seconds. And then I stared at the blinking vertical symbol for twice that time and wondered, what was I supposed to google again? As I tried to recall whatever it was I had to rummage the internet for, I could almost hear the metallic squeak of rusted gears struggling to spin backwards inside my head.

Usually, what I'd do is rewind my bullet train of thoughts and look for the particular sequence of cerebral images that connect to whatever it was that slipped out, but I just can't retrieve this one. It must have been some random thing that popped in and the one thing that should know where it went (since the jerk created it in the first place) has rendered itself useless. I'm half amazed and half annoyed about it. Like my brain has a mind of its own and loves to prank me sometimes. Going out? Im gonna make you wear your shirt inside out! Carrying a plate of food? Im gonna make enter you the bathroom! Working on a high priority client-requested task in the office? Im gonna dyslexify a couple of words so you'll misunderstand them and screw this whole thing up!

This is supposed to be the part where I conclude by saying "I know my brain has done many amazing things" and such. But I am going to hold the praises hostage until my brain pays me the ransom of memory. So fuck you, brain.



P.S. Even up to now, I have yet to remember what I was supposed to google. It would be easy to say it couldn't have been something important since I forgot it that fast. But what if it was? Damn.
P.P.S. My brain also came up with this dream last night: my whole family was in a car and I was outside riding a baby stroller holding on to the left rear window and we were going at top speed along EDSA. Fun times.
P.P.P.S. All those italicized sentences actually happened.

THE MAN IN THE SAND CASTLE

There was this thing I saw on the most reliable news source of the interwebs, Facebook, about a certain local filmmaker who threatened a few people that gave their movie a negative review. It made me want to post a blog about opinions and criticism. Which then made me realize how nearly all of the personal blogs now are reviews of stuff. Which then made me realize I haven't written a movie review for a long, long time. Which then made me go back to the first one about opinions and criticism.

So I logged in and found out that I had a recent unfinished unposted entry, with three paragraphs worth of introductory rant about the Manny Pacquiao v. LGBT community issue saved as draft and ended in the middle of a sentence. I Ctrl+A'd it and hit Backspace instead of Delete because I'm a rebel. Also because it connects to what this new entry will contain (if I finish it).

Anyway, I'll never understand people who can't respect other people's opinion of their work, like it's the most perfectest thing in the universe and anyone who says otherwise is automatically an idiot. As a writer, I've always been open to criticism (of the constructive kind, of course). I don't really listen to them that much since I'll not let go of work for external scrutiny unless I'm satisfied that no more changes are needed but I file them under "for consideration" on any succeeding endeavors. I get that some tend to value their output more than it deserves (I do that as well). That does not mean, however, that they can just threaten, ridicule and harass their critics and it definitely does not excuse anyone from being a complete asshole. Nothing does, really. Only time it's okay to be an asshole is if, in fact, you are literally a hole of ass.

And this isn't about someone being called fat and crying foul on social media even though they really are severely overweight. This involves a product released for public consumption. If your product is of subpar quality, society will say so. It doesn't matter how hard you worked on it, how much time or money you spent on it, and how much praise you got from the people you paid to help you with it. Your efforts are meaningless if the end result sucks and no amount of delusionary persuasion will turn it into gold. If it's crap, it's crap. From an asshole. I love how disgustingly that links together.

So go ahead, make your films, write your stories, and peddle your goods for all the world to consume as long as you're sure you can take the heat. Else, crawl back under your rock and fellate yourself for eternity.


P.S. Goes both ways of course. Complaints, reactions and suggestions need not be offensive.
P.P.S. Been dreaming of my soon-to-be-born son a lot recently. I hope he dreams of me too. Cant wait for both our dreams to come true.