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Welcome to Volume 6 of The Marocharim Experiment. This blog is authored and maintained by Marocharim, the self-professed antichrist of new media.



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Marocharim is a 21-year-old college senior from the University of the Philippines Baguio, majoring in Social Anthropology and has a minor in Political Science. He lives with his parents, his brother and his sister in Baguio City - having been born and raised there all his life. He is the author of three book-versions of The Marocharim Experiment.

Most of his time is spent at school, where he can be found in the UP Baguio Library reading or scribbling notes, and sometimes hanging out with his friends or by himself in the kiosks, or the main lobby. During his spare time, he continues writing. When not in school he hangs out with his friends, or takes long walks around Baguio City to, as he puts it, "get lost."

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The Marocharim Experiment Volume I: The Trial of Another Mind, Subject to Disclosure is Available Now

The Marocharim Experiment Volume II: The Nevermind Chronicles is Available Now

The Marocharim Experiment Volume III: The Sentence Construction of Reality is Available Now

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February 26, 2005
#049: Alone In The (Freakin') Crowd

< yes, it's officially the start of panagbenga hell >

   Man, oh man.  Oh, the humanity!

   Just a few hours ago I was neck-deep in humanity, trying to make my way to air.  That happens all the time, especially during Baguio Flower Festival season.  I'm not one to complain about crowds or anything, but this is nothing short of shat.  There, I said it.

   There's something about a whole crowd of people that would change one's weltanschauung (one's world view from a specific standpoint) in an instant.  For me, alienated from my course and all, every situation is a fast-moving, mechanical activity.  And when you talk about mechanical activities, I think that the parade took it over.

   While wading through the mass of humanity I realized that, to a certain degree, the smell of thousands of people lining up Session Road and Harrison Road would not fail to turn one's nose over.  Had Baguio been not naturally air-conditioned then the place would have smelled like the Tullahan River down there in Manila.  As in, talagang amoy tao.  The intermingling smell of sweat, bus effervescence (I don't know, but there's a certain "bus" smell right by 7-Eleven No. 2), and farts.  Yes, I suppose that after eating binatog, hot dogs and McDonald's you're bound to pass gas.

   Considering, of course, that not too many Baguio people were actually in there braving the crowd.  I watched half of the parade at home, and half of the parade at Session Road.  Most of the people in the crowd were from the lowlands.  I can tell - Baguio people don't wear shorts that short and those shirts tourists are wont to buy over at the market ("I Love Baguio," "City of Pines," "City of Flowers...").  Most people I know would stay at home and watch it on TV instead.

   I was half-expecting people to either steal my cellphone (I doubt how a snatcher would be happy if he did steal my ancient Nokia 3310), pick my USB Reader/Writer off my jacket pocket (it is pretty expensive - the 256 MB card alone costs P2500), or grope me (I've been mistaken for a woman countless times before - from a jeepney ride to a late dinner at McDonald's).  I did run into a couple of friends who looked the worse for wear with their straw hats.  My hair, matted with sweat, was so shiny that I had the makings of the next Cream Silk model, considering that I'm male.

   Screw the crowd... gotta see some fireworks.

Posted at Saturday, February 26, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

February 25, 2005
#048: Reunion, Huh?

< simply put, it's a high school reunion >

   If you're like me, high school is the biggest crock of shat you ever had the displeasure of having to undergo.  Sure, it's nice in the beginning, but after you've graduated and have moved on to college, you have that sudden urge to forget everything and deny that you wasted four years of your life... that is, if you have one.  If you're like me, you don't.

   A good friend of mine back in high school isn't like me (man, I need some clones), and is planning this summer reunion for our whole class of 70+ people.  It kind of borders on the obsessive: text messages, Friendster messages, e-mail, Yahoo! Groups... I suppose she'll have to use my tagboard to advertise it.

   I'm looking forward to that reunion - and that's uncharacteristic of my usual behavior towards group gatherings.  I've developed this reputation of being such a snob that I wouldn't acknowledge one's shadow for all I care, but I'm really looking forward to it.  Though I regret having quit drinking, since this reunion will be a drinking party.  I just have the gut feeling it will.

Posted at Friday, February 25, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

#047: Fo-schizzle Ma'Mizzle... Fizzle...

< got this from justine >

   So you don't understand my English, huh?  Try reading my blog in black rapper mode.

   Gizoogle

   Outta here for now, playa.  Gotta read my Gizoogle.

Posted at Friday, February 25, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

February 23, 2005
#046: It's Hard Enough...

< for a few of my friends going on through a tough time in their lives... >

   It's hard enough to love, but it's even harder to not have loved at all.

   It's hard enough to follow every beat of your heart.  The human heart can only love so many people at the same time.  Who knows how much time, effort and energy a person spends loving?  That's the beauty of it all - nobody really knows what the human being is capable of.  But it's even harder to love someone you cannot see.  Where is the apple of your eye?  To whom can you give your all when your all is not there to be seen?

   It's hard enough to pay the price to love, but it's even harder to pay the price for love.  Who knows how much a person, so much in love, would sacrifice in order to love?  Love is pretty much an exercise in sacrifice.  To "sacrifice" everything you have: money, time, effort, pride, your own self in the name of love... that's not love.  That's not sacrifice.  Real love - real sacrifice - happens when you let go.  But is love all about sacrifices?  How could you sacrifice someone you love so much?  Could you even stomach the sacrifices you make, or even think about the sacrifices you have made?

   It's hard enough to let go, but it's even harder to move on.  Letting go: that's the easy part.  After all, every single person in the world is a burden.  Come to think about it, whoever said we're indispensable?  Everyone is bound to answer to Time one way or another.  There's no escaping the reality that life is a cycle of vicious cycles.  But how do you "move on" now that your life, all of a sudden, got a bit "lighter?"  How do you move on with your life when your immediate present is a wreck?  How do you move on, now that you're drained?

   It's hard enough to love... but really, it's even harder to not have loved at all.

Posted at Wednesday, February 23, 2005 by marocharim
(1) vomitted  

February 22, 2005
#045: Nemo's Revolution

< yes, "swim down" as in "finding nemo" >

   I have better things to do than be fascinated, and to talk at length, with and about the semiotics, and god forbid social relevance, of "Finding Nemo."  Really.  But then again, talking to me for far too long doesn't actually "enlighten" you: it drives you to a terminal state of Marocha-Madness.  That is, either you don't understand me anymore, or you want to keep listening.  It's a complex.

   Anyway, I've watched "Finding Nemo" far too many times already that I'm liable to have fish tonight... which I'm not betting on.  Living with a family of carnivores is a bit weird, considering that it is, after all, Lent.  Being the only atheist in a family of believers (my older brother being agnostic and my younger sister being the churchy-churchy type) I scoff at the idea of dogma.  This has nothing to do with "Finding Nemo," but as usual, I'm ranting and raving.

   Perhaps the most poignant scene in "Finding Nemo," one where I'm particularly interested in as a sociological pornographer (yes, I have this perverted fascination with the social that it kind of borders on the obscene and obsessive), was where Marlon (Merlin, I don't really know) called on the tuna trapped in the fishing net to swim down.  I suppose you already know about it...

   Time to get fishy.



   Awhile ago, in my Political Science 182 class (BTW: International Relations) a brief debate on revolution went on.  My friend and class sparring partner, Abel, said that we should not discount on the possibility of the masses being able to lead any form of revolution.  Had I thought of Nemo in that class, way before I was still a bit off with my chi in the absence of a Coke Light (you can't eat or drink in Room 302), I would have used the fishing net scene as a metaphor.  But then again, if you're me you're better off shutting up, than have the whole class suddenly jolted into participation by your side comments and your metaphors... trust me.

   Anyhow, if we take the fishing net scene as an example of revolution, we can construe the tuna to be the masses, and Marlon and Nemo to be the elite (whether the economic elite or the intelligentsia) to be the primary "instigators," if you will, of a revolution.  The context is that the tuna, the masses in this case, are both oppressed and repressed by a dialectical contradiction.  How the tuna got into the net in the first place is brought about by the dialectic in itself: freedom being the thesis, the means of production (the net) being the antithesis.

   The fishing boat, in this case oppressive and repressive structures like capitalism, imperialism and feudalism (for you UP people: ang Tatlong Batayang Problema ng mala-kolonyal at mala-piyudal na lipunang Pilipino), exists to pull the tuna away from the realization of their species-being and alienate them, by packing them in oil and shipping them away to your local grocery store, in cans.

   Unless Nemo and the tuna fish would want to spend their lives (if they at all live as inanimate, packaged objects) in a can, they would have to swim down.  Nemo, being conscious of this oppressive and repressive reality, must take it upon himself to free the tuna out of the net.  In order to do this he invokes resistance.

   What else would Nemo and the tuna fish do but swim down?  Sure, all the tuna want to be free so they go in separate courses, making it way easier for the fishing boat to take them out of the water.  So Nemo, trapped in the net, calls on his dad, Marlon, to tell all the fish to swim down.  As he does, the fish exert a concerted, coordinated effort to change their lot and be free.  It took Nemo, a small clownfish, to alter their consciousness on their reality and that they must do something about it.  In the process, however, Nemo is knocked out unconscious: nobody said radical change comes without a price.



   So what does this all mean?  Nemo's revolution in a fishing net is a pretty valid point in itself.  First, Nemo, while not at all conscious of other realities outside the net he's trapped in, is conscious of the reality of the one trapping him.  We, as a society, are trapped in all sorts of nets that sometimes we lose hope.  In reality, the reason why our society is not experiencing any sort of real change is not because of a general feeling of hopelessness, but because we don't have directions for change.  I'm stopping short of telling people what to do with their lives, whether they should follow the right or the left or the middle, if it does exist: that's not my business. 

   Society can't change on the individual level.  Like the tuna fish in the fishing net, in order to change society we must have a concerted, coordinated effort to realize change.  This is revolution in a nutshell.



   On a side note, quite a few people are starting to rave about the "hilarity" of this blog, which I appreciate... but I don't really find anything hilarious about this.  I like to think of myself as the guy-on-the-street fellow who happens to write stuff on anything he sees, so be warned: you might be the next fellow to read about yourself around here.

   I was planning on changing this blog's title to "The Marocharim Experience," but it sounds too much like an N*Sync-Michael Jackson collaboration than a blog.  Just experience the experiment.

Posted at Tuesday, February 22, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

February 21, 2005
#044: I'm Bored. That's It.

   Lemme think before my next entry...

Posted at Monday, February 21, 2005 by marocharim
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February 20, 2005
#043: That Wowie-Juday Thing

< yeah, i kind of got bored, so i wrote this >

   Enter the world of the middle-aged youth, where Pinoy showbiz started, and apparently ended, with the love team of Wowie de Guzman and Judy Ann Santos.

   Yes, I'm talking about Wowie and Juday.  To you younger people (by "younger" I mean the 17-and-below crowd), this love team was our generation's equivalent to Dao Ming Si and Shan Cai, or Vivian and Carlo... whatever.  The point is, despite the relatively short disparity between our ages, there is such a thing as a "generation gap" between those pushing 20, and those who consider themselves "adolescents:" it's how much you know about TV.

   Anyway, anyone who can remember "TGIS," "Ang TV" and "Valiente" is, by today's standards, jurassic.  Of course, "TGIS" eventually became "Gimik," and now is "SCQ Reload."  "Ang TV" was the show where the likes of Patrick Garcia, Paolo Contis, Claudine Barretto and Jolina Magdangal first made their names playing kid comedy roles, and now the show has been revived as "Goin' Bulilit."  I haven't an idea of the modern-day "Valiente," the Pinoy equivalent of "Walker, Texas Ranger," but I can tell you that it was an institution in afternoon drama.  Nobody watches "Lovingly Yours, Helen" without first watching Paquito Diaz's moustache curl with that evil smirk.

   If my memory serves me correctly, the Wowie-Juday tandem first appeared in the soap "Mara Clara," where the entertainment careers of Susan Africa and Princess Punzalan were etched in stone: the former as the child-swapping mother, and the latter as the smirking, brow-knitting antagonist.  While most of us would know Judy Ann today as Krystala in "Krystala" or as Princess in "Basta't Kasama Kita," back then she was Mara - which was, if my research proves to be conclusive, a clone of the late Julie Vega's character in "Anna Liza."  Gladys Reyes, her counterpart, has now shied away from showbiz and is now happily married, although we know her best as Clara - which was, if my research proves to be conclusive, a clone of Janice de Belen's character in "Anna Liza."  The poignant scenes of Mara having to eat her dinner off the floor far compensates for the lack of originality the series had.  No wonder it lasted for about three years or so.  Then came "Esperanza," which pretty much had the same cast save for a theme song sang by April Boy Regino, which had to compete with a new, much more popular duo: Rico Yan and Claudine Barretto in "Mula sa Puso."  Such a powerful, effective chemistry between Rico and Claudine eventually corroded the established base of the Wowie-Juday tandem.

   OK, OK, I am biased towards Rico and Claudine, not because Rico's already dead, but because it had this certain "kilig" factor that wasn't so visible in the Wowie-Juday tandem, which focused more on portrayals of human misery.  The real ratings-drawer in "Mara Clara" was Punzalan: of course, being stigmatized in the "kontrabida" role is not the best way to hallmark your career, but that puts her in the same league as Bella Flores, Cherie Gil and Lolita Rodriguez.  But without Wowie-Juday we can just imagine a business alienated from the general public.  While kids and kids-at-heart would emulate the many gestures of Ultraman, soaps went right down into "real" life stories - where children were often swapped at birth and serious camera-panning effects ruled the game.

   I'm not driving at a long-winded defense on who's the better tandem (simply because there's no question that it's Rico-Claudine), but one can just imagine what showbiz once was.  Now, it's more inclined towards scandal and catchphrasing.  Watching "Dreamboy," I couldn't imagine why so many people could be so engrossed watching Bea Alonzo's stiff acting and Piolo Pascual's "pa-pogi" effects: the chemistry is so artificial that it's more like cinematic epoxy than anything.  I mean, Bea's now-famous spiel, "Ilang beses ba ako magtitiwala?  Ilang beses ba ako magmamahal?  Ilang beses ba ako masasaktan?" has the same "Nge?!" effect back in the "Ang TV" days - bland, boring and predictable.  Today's soaps, save for "Spirits," lack the panache and pathos of their predecessors: the Diether Ocampo-Kristine Hermosa and the Mark Herras-Jennylyn Mercado tandems leave so much to be desired that they couldn't even do justice to being dubbers for "Maria Mercedes."  If that isn't enough, we're entreated to so many sex videos "starring" celebrities: while they whine and moan and complain about being "exploited" when they can't even do justice to their own cinematic roles - sexual or otherwise - that we're left to wonder whether or not we should put those in the sex videos on TV in order to shut these faces up.  That director guy on TV with the orange hair was right: so what?  A different context for me, however.

   That's considering the fact that there's so much sleaze in TV nowadays that "entertainment" now consists of people following the court case between the Baywalk Bodies and 'Da Bodies, which to me is nothing short of shat.  Honestly, who would want to be remembered for tag lines like "Huwag diyan... may kiliti ako diyan..." and stunts like wearing nothing but raincoats on center islands?  It kind of makes me wish that "Cristy Per Minute" and "Love Stories with Joe D'Mango" were back on their previous timeslots before I have my fill of it.  I can't say anything about "Pilipinas, Game KNB!" even though Kris Aquino's pitch was annoying even in her drama scenes back with the late Rene Requiestas in the "Pido Dida" movies, but what's with "Wowowee!" and the new version of "Eat Bulaga!"  I mean, is the Tito-Vic-and-Joey formula that passe that we have to shift to declasse entertainment like that of Sexbomb?

   But I'm not saying that it's time for us to return back to old TV.  The idea of broadcasting "SST" or "'Sang Linggo nA'PO Sila" on noontime TV again makes me shudder.  But the truth is, showbiz ended with Wowie-Juday and Rico-Claudine.  Not because Rico Yan is dead, Wowie de Guzman's showbiz career is dead, and Judy Ann Santos and Claudine Barretto are without a shadow of a doubt the two best young actresses in the country period, but because showbiz back then had more substance.  Nobody needed gimmicks, nobody needed promotions, nobody needed scandal.  All you needed was someone watching you and singing "...Bakit nga ba ang puso / Pag nagmamahal na..." as soon as Claudine rides in Rico's taxi.  Now that's TV.  No sleaze, no scandal, just entertainment.  Just like what German Moreno used to make, back in "That's Entertainment."

   At least I didn't have to go through the love triangle (whether or not it happened or not is not my concern) of Romnick Sarmienta, Tina Paner and Sheryl Cruz.  I'm not that old.

Posted at Sunday, February 20, 2005 by marocharim
(2) vomitted  

February 18, 2005
#042: Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

< yup, once again it's dropping week >

   Sa bagay, masarap mag-drop.

   A lot of my freshie friends have lined up to the Registrar's Office to file their dropping forms... though I don't see it as a way to get the autograph of Prof. Hernandez, UPB's own geriatric version of Jolina Magdangal.  At the cost of P30, their troubles are technically over, although some are contemplating a leave of absence.  Sa bagay, masarap mag-drop, at katakam-takam ang LOA.

   Take it from me, a veteran subject-dropper.  I have made UP Baguio richer by P120 in dropped subjects in the span of three years.  It's not that I like dropping, but I'm but an ignorant student left behind in the dizzy hurly-burly of graduating in four years.  Graduating isn't my priority right now, since my end is both noble and ignoble.  I want to contribute to knowledge, which is not the reason why I'm overstaying.  I'd rather not dwell on that...



   Yun nga lang, nakakahiya na kasing mag-drop.

   Stop thinking about the taxpayers and the rhetoric of "scholastic excellence" and think about it: P30 don't come easy anymore.  Imagine what you can buy with P30... not much, but bear with me here.  Imagine the length of time you're going to have to spend in line: after all, it's not like you're the only person at school to drop a subject.  Here's one: do you want to be seen by your closest friends dropping, if said friends aren't dropping the same subject with you?

   Forget scholastic excellence - you're dropping.  You blew your chance, your dream of graduating summa cum laude.  And forget about the taxpayers - your parents' taxes don't go to UP at all.



   So go ahead.  Drop.

Posted at Friday, February 18, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

February 16, 2005
#041: Spoofing Songs... 2

< sige, tagalog mode muna tayo >

   Karaoke mode muna tayo, no?  Tinatamad ako eh.



   Ayokong gawin 'to, pero kailangan nating kumanta para mapatalsik ang rehimeng US-Arroyo, no?  Pero paano kaya kung kasuhan ako?  Malays.

   Kantahin natin 'to: to the tune of "Prinsesa" by Teeth.

GLORIA
From "Prinsesa" by Teeth

Nakaupo s'ya sa isang madilim na sulok
Ewan ko ba kung bakit sa libu-libong pulitikong nandoon
Wala pang isang minuto
Wala na ang tiwala ko sa 'yo
                          
Gusto ko sanang marinig ang panig mo
Umasa na rin na sana'y mapapawi mo ang gutom ko
Gusto ko sanang lumapit
Kung di lang sa sinapit ng bayan ko...
                                                    
Chorus:
Dalhin mo ako sa iyong palasyo
Sisigaw ako sa hardin ng iyong kaharian
Wala man akong pag-aari
Pangako kong ikaw ay matatanggal diyan
O Pangulong Gloria... o Gloria
Gloria, Gloria
Di ako makatulog
Naisip ko ang lahat ng iyong ginawa
Mula sa utang hanggang sa Luisita
Sana ikaw ay mawala
Kaya iyong isipin ito'y katotohanan
Katotohanan na

Posted at Wednesday, February 16, 2005 by marocharim
Revolt!  

February 14, 2005
#040: The Asinine Misconstruction of Romantic Reality

< ok, fine, now this is going to be really something for the ages now, eh? >

   Before anything else, Happy Valentine's Day!

   I know... mahaba ang title ko.  Right now, I don't really care.

   Anyway, enough introductory notes for now... let's get to some random (but interrelated) entries...



Yes, it's a Blue Magic thing

   I did my Valentine's shopping late last evening, if you don't mind... which some of you do, but like I said I don't really care (at the risk of sounding bitter and mistrusting, yes, I don't care).  I trekked the whole mess of things in Session Road, replete with tiles that were either an attempt at an artistic mosaic or one to make sidewalks look like public bathrooms (heck, I don't know: I'm not an artiste).  I wasn't really intending to buy anything common for a Valentine's present, but at the end of it all I found something...

   At Blue Magic.

   If you're like me you strategize and then you make sure that you live up to the promise of nonconformism, but like all of my best-laid plans, from getting that right consistency from oatmeal to a "romantic" gimmick, I end up being too conventional even for my own good.  Hence the Blue Magic deal.  I wondered, had I confronted myself on the very entrance of the store where they keep that big tiger doll, I would have had a few choice words for myself and just blasted the living hell out of the place (maybe a bazooka or a grenade launcher would do fine), instead of scouring for the cutest teddy bear I can find. 

   I ended up buying the cutest pink bear (sheesh, I can't believe I actually wrote that).  Complete with bag, fake rose (don't mock my taste in the products of synthetic horticulture, people) and that small wooden placard-like thing, that set me back about P285.00.  Count my other expenditures, and that one trip to buy a Valentine's present set me back about P300.  There goes my P500.  I even forgot the Valentine's card and the prospect of the date:  I wasn't planning on one, and given resource scarcity (I really hope PGMA would give me my Valentine's bonus even if I don't have a job, even if I go to the streets and demand her resignation...) .  That borders on moronic, I know, but these things don't come cheap, you know.  Nasa panliligaw pa lang ako, date na agad habol ko.  Ano ako, ulol? 

   Hey, I bought something at Blue Magic... that must classify me as terminally insane.



   Perhaps now I could confirm my suspicion that I must be one of the hardest-working bloggers on BlogDrive given my propensity to write long entries like these, but I don't give a damn.



Smoke gets in your eyes...

   I suppose I'm still in my ma-pride mode, seeing that She was there (and no, this is not my attempt to steal intellectual property from Karina Pomaneg of the Philippine Collegian... there's no other way to do this).  For torpes like me who would rather wait for the drama than seize the opportunity while it's still there, saying "Happy Valentine's" can choke us to death.

   I don't know: maybe the idea of smoking my lungs out to gain some measure of courage isn't working out all right, especially if you shifted brands.  I'm having this strange fetish with Winston, even if I made it quite all right with Marlboro for quite a long time.  So I couldn't, and eventually She left.  After that I went right here to blog my brains out before I go back there.

   I suck.



So now we reflect...

   After all that happened I have come to three conclusions:

   One, I am an idiot.

   Two, I'm an imbecile.

   Three, I'm a torpe.

   I'm done.

   I need to get back to school.

   Don't talk to me - I'll kill you.

Posted at Monday, February 14, 2005 by marocharim
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