_{* I ended up partnering with the instructor in the first instance and being roped into a group of three for the second.}

For early 2012, the Filipino online community has found its first target: a certain Ahcee Flores, who commented on the recent earthquake in Visayas, “Let us all pray……. Na matuloy ang tsunami para maraming bisaya ang mamatay, para mabawasan ang mga baduy sa pilipinas [I hope the tsunami pushes through so people from Visayas will die..so the outdated will cease].” Naturally, people are now trying to find out who this Ahcee Flores is and if she’s a real person, but of course, people are going well beyond that, making threats on her life and declaring her persona non grata in Visayas. There’s an idea floating around that Ahcee Flores is simply a false name, and now, people are digging up the information they can about the supposedly real person behind Ahcee Flores. Many are taking it too far, however, posting what appear to be real addresses and phone numbers. This is pretty dangerous, as they could be exposing perfectly innocent people to harassment. But who cares? This is an online mob, and they will dole out justice however they see fit.

It’s true that what the person wrote was really very insensitive and wrong. But on the other hand, people should learn to roll their eyes at comments like these, whether or not the person was simply trolling; it’s always a good tactic to stop feeding the troll, and stop making it seem as if what she said is worthy of any attention. Lots of people will say lots of ugly, stupid things that other people won’t agree with. Expressing your disagreement is normal; making heartfelt threats of murder and vigilante justice is just, well, silly, and doesn’t make you look any more intelligent or righteous than the person you are threatening to kill.

_{*sits back and watches how this plays out, then revisits the issues in three months to see if the people threatening to murder the offensive murder still feel just as passionately about the issue, or remember it at all with the same level of rage*}

It’s a story that sounds just right for a romantic comedy. The showdog who knows nothing of life beyond competitions, grooming, and training meets a cheerful, friendly housedog. Despite the showdog’s initial resistance, he opens up to the housedog, they become friends, and eventually fall in love, while the showdog loosens up and learns what life is like as a regular dog. I’m thinking the showdog is somewhat a staid, boring guy and the housedog is your typical Manic Pixie Dream Girl type. Call it a modern-day The Lady and the Tramp, except sadder, because the showdog has not experienced what it is like to be a regular dog, as opposed to Lady who had all the comforts of home and was able to run around the house and dig up the garden. Film outfits, call me!

Predictably for some Filipino commenters, a handful of them immediately went on the defensive, denouncing any Filipino critics for their supposed lack of pride in the country and falling back on that favorite comment, “Let’s be proud na lang imbes na mag-criticize”. I’m happy to see someone ask incredulously, “Did you even read the article?” True–since it’s a huge scam in the first place, should we even be proud that we took part in a scammy project?

I wish major organizations and companies would refrain from holding online polls. Not everyone cares about participating in such polls, and the ones who will win are those who are mainly supported by their countrymen. You’re not going to get a real picture of which person or place is truly the best. You’re just going to end up with the ones who received overwhelming votes facilitated by extensive get-out-the-vote campaigns fueled by so-called nationalistic pride. Just take a look at the number of Miss Philippines contestants who won Miss Photogenic in previous Miss Universe competitions. Just take a look at Efren Peñaflorida’s win as a CNN hero, which was most likely brought about by a crazed voting frenzy by Filipinos (I maintain that either Doc Hendley or Betty Makoni should have won). It looks like we Filipinos just want to grab any bit of glory that we can, and doing so by sheer force of numbers.

Once upon a time, I would have condemned Anne Curtis’ singing as an insult against art and culture, and expressed sorrow and regret at how people’s musical tastes have sunk so low. Today, I play this video as many times as I could stand to do so, all the while thinking, “Potcha, ako rin pala, pwedeng mag-concert.” I simply have to go about finding some way to make myself look gorgeous, since apparently, people will forgive anything if you look amazing. Props to Anne for doing this for the lulz. Her fans are in on the joke anyway, they bought her album and went to the concert for Anne the personality, not Anne the singer.

Overall, however, I encountered no unpleasantness from frats and sororities in my four years in UP, save for a brewing fight between Sigma Rho and APB at the AS Walk which was immediately broken up before it began. The sorority girls I had for classmates were generally amiable, and the most violence I heard about was from a blockmate who trudged into Nat. Sci. looking pained, claiming he just got paddled as part of his initiation into a frat. I did remember being bothered when a friend told me that a particular frat knows me and where I park my car and all, but then again, the people in that frat are known to make it their business to know what everyone else is doing. Fratmen held no appeal for me either, save for a Lonsi boy** whose hair looked so magnificently soft and his skin so glowing and smooth; we were in several classes together.

So no, I didn’t join sororities, nor was I ever asked to. I did try joining the Filipino-Japanese org in school, which I first heard about when I was in high school and thought would suit me. My interest was dashed when I tried complying with one of the requirements for the applicants, which is to greet older members with “senpai”–the girl I greeted glared at me and asked, “Tinuruan ba kayo ng tamang pagbati?” “Oo.” “Ayusin mo yan.” In my head, I responded with, “Fuq dat” and never went back.

Ultimately, I ended up joining a small, new org in my last year in college, a move that was brought about by their enthusiasm for Rent, the musical. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have joined at all. While I discovered a lot of great reading material through those people, it also made me realize that it was actually possible to feel like a misfit among a bunch of other misfits.

_{* I actually had an argument with an online friend who said that such stories probably aren’t true at all.
** One afternoon after Latin American history class, I immediately stepped out and waited for him to emerge, planning to inquire about his relationship status and whether he would be interested in going out. He emerged minutes later, accompanied by a few other guy classmates. I lost my nerve, and lost it forever. Found out a year after I graduated that his family’s fantastically wealthy. I am so glad I ended up not having any connection with him in any way because I would not have been able to run with those horses.}

I realize in such situations, a police report is necessary. But the kid had already pulled his vehicle away to the other side of the road, leaving the original scene of the crime. The kid took his sweet time texting me later that evening, and I had to harangue him on Twitter to get a response. I found something interesting while Googling the kid’s name: he’s set to appear in an ABS-CBN TV show soon. A conversation with his dad let me know that he (the dad) is, well, quite well known. Doesn’t cow me at all, though.

Right now, I’m feeling both apprehensive–still scared that maybe they’ll skulk off without paying for the damage–and angry at myself, thinking that perhaps I should have been angrier the night of the accident, put some fear into the kid, and wondering why the assertiveness gene appears to have skipped me entirely.

That changed recently, when I decided to make myself a cup of coffee, just to see if it’s something I would actually enjoy. The verdict after my coffee experiment? Bleah, I can do without it.