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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Monday, March 09, 2009

entry arrow3:43 PM | Pakshet!

[listening to vangelis' end title score for blade runner]

Not all kinds of anger are vexations to the spirit, negative outbursts that have no place in polite society. I remember that New Testament image of Jesus rampaging in the corrupted courtyard of the temple, bellowing, knocking things over, calling the gathered throng a nest of vipers. There are some forms of anger that purifies, that knocks you off the false foundation of some static form of complacency, and slaps you with the delicious truth you may have refused to acknowledge for the longest time. That "truth" might have been there all along, an answer that has been calling your attention, but that you have refused to even look at it, or see if it feels right. As to why not, who knows? Maybe because we are often cowards, and loves to bask in the artificial comfort of false conclusions.

I avoided a potential dramatic situation in the gym today.

When I walked away, unable to even set foot in the gym's grey confines, I was surprised at feeling a little angry. Surprised because I knew I was bound to stumble on them sooner or later. But I knew I wasn't prepared -- yet -- to make nice chitchat, and pretend it didn't have to be awkward.

Because it is still awkward.

And I felt even angrier when I sat down in Don Atilano to relax with my favorite Dumaguete coffee, opened my Facebook, statused subtly about my predicament -- and somebody else of the same stature in my life messaged me, and joked that I was being ... a drama queen.

Putang ina!

Did I need that? Did I need this kind of afternoon, from the both of them?

I tell you, Dumaguete is not big enough for me and my past.

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