I regard every essay posted in Facebook or Twitter with suspicion because life is short and I don’t want to spend precious seconds of my life reading worthlessness when I can spend it trolling prestigious publications such as Gawker, Mariah Daily, Jessica Rules the Universe and Read This and Die. It’s an economical way of plowing through daily Internet readings. Sometimes I regard these essays with contempt because suspicion and contempt are best friends. I can only imagine how someone with the same tendency as me feels when I post essays that entertain and impress me greatly. In the spirit of democracy feel free to express your feelings about people like me who post essays such as the ones I do in your own Pat Session.
I’ve been seeing this travel-related essay too often and too much. It basically pontificates the virtues of travelling while young. It’s a bombastic persuasion on how youthful travelling can be so nurturing to the soul and well-being. Point taken, but actually, travelling is so expensive. I’m saying ‘expensive’ but I’m also meaning I don’t like spending time at airports, falling in line for bus tickets, jeeps, and other such cruelties to the mind, body, spirit and feet. A friend once emoted exactly how I feel about the kind of travelling I do (leisurely): I like the feeling of being in a place but I’ve never warmed to the necessity of having to face people whose job it is to suspect my intentions for lugging big, uncomfortable bags to places where about a dozen other people in my Facebook have re-enacted the exact same poses in, like as if they’re the very first human beings to ever pose inappropriately beside a religious statue, wearing the same sets of wacky facial expressions.
But really, people who enjoy travelling and posting pictures of their naked selves in the beach, or fully clothed in the mountains, etc, are people whose passion for travelling I totally respect. I get that their exposure in my timelines are accidents of their having cameras and FB/Twitter. Travel people are not the same as skinny people who go to fancily ambienced restaurants so they can hashtag foodporn their pics (which I can tolerate if you’re a chunky/fast metabolismed person with a nice camera who actually likes food). You’re fine, travel people. I especially like it when you go by yourselves and never feel the need to make me feel inadequate for not vomiting all over myself for not booking the next piso-fared flight to Turks and Caicos. I guess my point is I don’t mind travelling but I’d rather be magically transported to a place. But I prefer reading and that’s travelling, too!
This is popular with people whose lives are perfect or whose lives are perfectly advertised. To better ram their points across, they point out that they really, really have accomplished a lot and are perfectly happy in their achievements as 20-something persons and that in fact numbers 2, 3 and 5 are crossed off their list. As a twenty-something person who hasn’t achieved a quarter of what this magnanimous Internet person is telling me to achieve already, I sit by the sidelines in the meantime and swallow whole my peers’ glittering achievements. Thank you, my mouth is so full.
I don’t know what you see in Patricia Evangelista’s writing that you would mercilessly bombard timelines with her essays but every time I read an article of hers, I imagine her face. It’s a face so serious it will make you question the existence of humor. I will admit that I don’t read her often because I’d rather think about Channing Tatum’s loins or read serial killer novels, but when my timeline is Patricia Evangelista’d I can’t help but notice and read each word, and think, ‘Gurl, chill! Gurl, listen to some Carly Rae or some Britney.’ I kinda like her column about Ernesto Maceda, though.
In this, the writer gives a guideline on how not to behave as a gay person. But you know what, writer? Being a homosexual in this world is hard. You may think it’s easy, but it’s not. Our inward-smirking society may give the impression that it’s totally okay to be gay but still, no. We get innumerable rules on how to maintain an acceptable amount of gayness that we should unleash to our fellowmen so adding to that is mean.
But I will agree on one point and that is in the needless sassyfication of the self (the way actually paminta gays attempt to be sassy and attempt Z-snapping personas – #4 on the list) just so one can meet the expectations of how the average, unexposed-to-gays perceive a gay person. I don’t z-snap in public but I do sometimes exhibit flamboyant tendencies just because I feel I can behave as a certain type of gay without having to think if my behaviour is becoming distractingly gay. It’s silly but I act a bit swishy around friends who know and I don’t get why I do either, but maybe it’s because my thing is I have to be myself.
You can’t follow hunks on Instagram AND like their photos without being suspected of being a fag. If you do manage to follow a hunk, you might have to do it one at a time (so, say, you want to follow both Semerad twin, you have to settle with one and follow the other one some weeks after just so it won’t look suspiciously creepy to people who, despite fat, flaming evidences to the contrary, still think of you as straight). You also can’t comment on your out, freedom-loving gay friends’ posts the way you want to. You may get away with the occasional Chos but sometimes you want to have variation and use Char, but Char will most certainly raise an alarm.
Also, you get endlessly jeered by clueless or vicious people who find it highly retarded (and maybe frightening) that at your age, you have no girlfriend. It feels intrusive and harrassy when you get teased with females you’d rather be friends with. I refuse to be the type who ceremoniously announces whatever people feel I need to ceremoniously announce, but there are fools who will want to worm this information out of you. It’s hard.