Why I like Yano, despite some “cool” people who do not know the band and the music (because they are my age) think I have a rather unusual taste, perhaps explains of my frustrations to be brave enough. Aside, of course, that I am highly influenced by my older brothers who never touched the radio when Pinoy rock music were playing every morning. I was like 7-10 years old. Now, my other brother doesn’t just listen to them, he plays them good!
So much about the plug for my brother.
I can be guilty of being a “team player”. The cowardice in my system is brimming to be ignored. My rage, though overflowing too, is still not much to make me brave enough to write about it to educate, “to be the agent of change”, and all else that are purposes of writing aside from “to express”! So, when I get suffocated at the stinks of reality, I “shout” my heart out in password protected word documents or in screaming Tsinelas, Trapo, or Naroon (yes, I scream Naroon though it sounds calmer supposedly). I mean, why take the risk when Yano (or Dong Abay, or Pan at that, at times Asin too) had said things for me? I mean playing safe, is…well, safe.
But when I get to be too pissed of containing my anger, I let them out anyway but most of the time, my words seem to be less appropriate. The holding back is obvious. Besides, I think I have not seen much of that reality that stinks big time yet. Because I am in an environment that keeps me from being vigilant. I am in an environment that attempts to blind me with the promise of a bright future ahead if I stay the best, or if I stay the way I am now.
I am young, and Sweeney Todd (Johnny Depp) said (or sang it actually), the world has been kind to [me]. Some things I know about the world are things I just hear from people who are brilliant, or stupid, or social climbers, or team players too who came there ahead of me. I wonder what I would have to say when it is time for me to share. Would I lie, or would I scare the younger away?
Maybe. The world is still lying to me. Though I had a taste of the tang or bitterness of the world, betrayal is still yet to reveal itself more when I am a year older, or five months older – that is when I am in the outside world, far from the comforts of the four walls of air-conditioned classrooms. That is when I am far from the luxury of dependence. That is when I am far from the security of idealisms.
Right now, I have rage against my self and my cowardice most of all. It is stopping me to do so many things. And how am I reconciling with my cowardice? That, I have been trying to figure out, trying hard, in fact. Perhaps only when I snap from my sanity because of too much fury that had only found their home deep inside me. Only when they feel that inside me is not really their home.