Titles

I’ve always had trouble with titles. Finding a word or phrase that encapsulates a broad spectrum of ideas never failed to prove itself a difficult task. What pains me is the reduction process, which thereby eliminates any other ideas that may flow with what you began or later on proceed to adhere to, not necessarily parallel, sometimes even running askew. I’d also hate to resort to long ones, defeating the very purpose of the act. And yet, you’d want to endow it with a name that entices the reader to take a closer look, without preempting anything. Neither would I want to abstain from the act and leave it untitled. It just reflects indecisiveness and an escapist attitude (no offense, just a personal opinion). Then there are the rules of common grammar which forbid the use of prepositions at the beginning of a sentence or phrase, but we all know I always disregard that.

What I hate most, however, is having to live with a bad title. You and your work are tainted by its inadequacy. And readers will have to contend with the burden of deciphering whatever the hell you were thinking at that moment. The frightening thought is that all your ponderings for that moment are locked in that title — a time capsule of sorts. It’s a clandestine peek into the soul, something I’m very protective about, never mind about how many masks one wears. My editor would always come back to his works often with new, very different titles for what he has previously written. He always preferred that a third party entitled his work, even if it was bereft of Latin. “You always grasp the subject better when you’re outside of it.” — the difference of a mystery and a problem (ah yes, philosophy). Himself, confessing the temporality-linked titling dilemma.

The same holds true for our own titles — reducing us to one feat, whether great or a source of embarrassment, a time capsule of that fateful moment that can either make or brake us. It’s the reduction and temporality of it all that is troubling.

I’ve been told finalists in the Palanca awards were selected by virtue of their titles and first lines — a rather superfluous process of elimination that always disgusted me.

I always feared my work would be skipped (should I finally sum up the courage to enter) because of its title. Perhaps we trouble ourselves in finding a metaphor, double meaning, or just something profound all too often. It’s the piece that says it all, in the end.

I ought not to complain. It’s those very titles that have helped me get to where I am; titles that, ironically, grant me license to shitty titles, if you think about it.

I’ve had a couple of nice ones. But it would still be nice if I could have a little more consistency.

Second Star to the Right...

I've been looking at things the wrong way. Trust a cabin boy to read a sextant and you're bound to get lost at sea. Or maybe it was an astrolabe I was reading.

Funny how navigating (virtually at the very least) by the stars and compass can teach you much about GPS reliance, or civilization that, after 600 years, still chases after buried treasure. Thank you, Sid Meier.

You get carried away by the tide. Everyone's looking for a home port, far from that which you swear fealty to — a place to escape, to hide your loot, to contemplate. But the battles in the bay aren't something you can escape. Sooner or later it will reach your shores, crashing through the shoal and pillaging your hideout.

All you'll be thinking about at sea is dry land, after all. It's never been about finding a hideout, of a safe to stash all the dirt. Rather, about finding the motivation to keep you off-shore, working, for months, perhaps years at a time. Not thinking of mooring but why you're out and about. The joy of the voyage is the fact that you're in the open is it not? Never mind being caught in the crossfire, any hardy traveller will hold his own.

In the end, all the doubloons could hardly hold a candle to the poorest yet most stalwart seafarer. It's a quest, then, for the intangible fuel that keeps you burning in the dampest of stormy nights, and keeping a steady wind despite torn sails. Isn't that the treasure worth searching for?

Spare the meeting with the governor, and put off the repairs of the vessel for a while. Let them hear your stories and applaud. But never fail to come back with new tales of the high seas. You needn't even buy a round, that’s all they ask for, in return for being the wind in your sails.

Trust and/or Gratification

A lot of times, you’d really want to extend some trust — put yourself out on a limb and do a favor, knowing full well that it likely won’t return. There are times too that, because of those times you foolhardily extended trust, you just don’t want history to repeat. It’s become so difficult lately to tell when it’s genuinely legal, you’d wish Ad Misericordian were made illegal.

Whether the chain of lack of trust had begun from spite are a general lack of morals, you’d like to believe there’s still some good in the world, Mr. Frodo. But believe is only as far as it goes.

Perhaps the difficulty of trust between two parties is that one will always have to go out on a limb to initiate — “as a sign of good faith.” Power shifts to the second party then, free to plunder through open gates to fortress of opportunity and manipulation… or they could return the good faith. Back once again to the dilemma of going out on a limb, or is it walking the plank these days? It’s become quite the vicious cycle.

Third parties, or anyone for that matter, not encroached by the mystery will be quick to point out that moving towards a win-win situation is always what is aspired. But in a country nurtured by classical conditioning, what logic is there in putting yourself through all the trouble of pleasing the other party, when you can just take what you want and screw everyone else over?

My mom always found it curious that I’d suffer through eating the white meat of chicken, before preparing myself for the sumptuous outer skin. She said delaying gratification was a sign of higher intelligence. The fact that many of our countrymen put their own gratification first says a lot then.