Harum-Scarum

US Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton visited the country last week amid restoration efforts from devastating storms Ondoy, Pepeng, and Santi and capture of missionary Fr. Sinnot in Pagadian City. Both of which (but the latter not essentially tackled in the media) were reportedly among the issues talked about between her and Mrs. Arroyo, including but not limited to foreign and local affairs, human rights, national security, and conflict in Mindanao. Obviously jet lagged, Mrs. Clinton was all business nonetheless. In her day's stay, Mrs. Clinton managed to squeeze in an appearance in a forum organized by ANC, a subsidiary of ABS-CBN. The Manila Forum invited participants, mostly students from all over the country, to voice the Filipino youth in regards to current social issues surrounding them. The forum was moderated by astute Ricky Carandang and capable but overzealous Maria Ressa.

There is rich intention for intelligible discourse but somehow it got lost in the process. The diversification of questioning bounces off from interesting to laughable; from insidious to just plain stupid. A remarkable waste of time is someone asking Mrs. Clinton about her childhood crush when ample time could have been used to demand explanations on current social issues. Yet, as probably dictated by flow of program, mood and nature of questioning are tailored to be nondescript. Similarly, critical discourses on the Visiting Forces Agreement are curiously left out the discussions completely.

Of course, with the aid of new media, these issues didn't take a back seat. Twitter and Facebook users (myself included) share commentaries on how Mrs. Clinton addressed certain issues but conspicuously dodged everything else that deem sensitive. VFA, and its stemming human rights abuses and injustices could have been an interesting canvass for debate, as the US and Mrs. Clinton herself claim championing the upliftment of human rights.

I look at it as an opportunity to be in the presence of someone who can finally comment or answer questions that dog the country in the past. It's like playing that game, 'If you would have dinner with a famous person, living or dead, who would it be and what would your conversation go?' I will not have Jim Morrison answer who is his first kiss; I'd probably look for it in his Wikipedia page. I would certainly use the time to ask him if he ever have regrets or what's the inspiration behind The Lords/Notes on Vision and The New Creatures, or if he ever wanted a bad decision in life reversed. The Manila Forum with Mrs. Clinton is a chance, albeit calculatingly politic, to critically examine the US-Philippines alliance: how far we all have come, if we learned anything, and if ever both parties are successful in its respective interests.

My love-hate relationship (mostly leaning to the hate) with Facebook intensified this year with the proliferation of online games, quizzes, and shenanigans on the social networking site. I am first to admit that I have indulged on some of these in the past but the growing fascination on such was way too much off-putting. There was a time when it was enjoyable to share and comment on status updates (even the stupidest ones) or poke and write on your friend's wall. But now, there are many ways to do on Facebook than real life multiplied in thousandfold. You can create a mafia family, so powerful and feared that almost everyone beg you to be a part of theirs but really, all they wanted was silver pistols. You can plow a field and not break a sweat. You can pet an animal that never poops. You can manage a restaurant, sorority, or fashion posse so organized, popular, and resplendent and wished you amounted to it or even come as close. Which is quite sad, actually, when you only log on to a virtual community to enrich certain hopes and dreams.

I did feel that on some extent. Pre-facebook, I only care about the preface of a book and how it lures me to turn the pages. Pre-facebook, I occasionally preview a film I know will take me places. Pre-facebook, I look forward to the preternatural adventures with friends. But lately I seem to make a lot of excuses to skip them. I'd rather check on other people and what they had for lunch than me having lunch myself. It came to a point that I only log on to Facebook to play Rock Legends with my pseudo rockstar rising to the top —it's pathetic.

But realizations come in unlikely turns. I didn't realize at first how infuriating it had been for my friends when I send out invites for them to be my groupie, after I received my 193837465930th invite of Mafia Wars. I didn't realize how I helped out spam my friend's inbox with my band updates, after I cleaned out thousands of IQ test requests. I didn't realize how I am bumming everyone out with my thoughtless ramblings, after I hid many friends who only post their day's horoscopes and Farmville harvests. Cutting down on Facebook is a decision I am happy to make because it provided me with equally fun but more valuable things to do with my time. Like writing this entry on the blog.

Roughly two years ago – or to put it exactly 500 days – when Zooey Deschanel, with her pixie-like frame and signature bangs burst into greater American consciousness. After a string of moderately successful indie films, Zooey is portrayed as the first lady of independent pop cinema. Although she has started film acting with a key role in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous, Zooey did not prosper in leading film roles early on. Her quirky personality (or the public's view notwithstanding) often land her various indie film projects: from charming elf, cereal store owner, nutty sidekick to Sarah Jessica Parker, and later was cast in wacked out versions of a leading lady in The Go-Getter (which is awesome), Gigantic (waaay awesome), and recently, hit romatic comedy 500 Days of Summer.

This is not a love story
It starts with a pledge: both hands lovingly or demonstratively inform affection and assurance. Tom Hanson (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a lowly greeting card writer, falls madly in love with Zooey's Summer Finn after an encounter involving a track by The Smiths. We're remiss in not pointing out that this is not a love story about to happen – only it comforts (or confronts?) us to reset the meaning of love in most romantic stories go. This is how we are told to expect in Marc Webb-megged unconventional rom-com.

Webb's debut triumphs in expressing a complicated story stemming from lines blurring in being friends and lovers and coworkers. As a sign of today's epoch, it reflects a changing time on how relationships develop, mature, or die – because they do sometimes. Told in dizzying flashbacks and forwards, 500 Days of Summer however borderlines with that of a music video: abrupt and brusque in the journey of Tom and Summer. It also tends to solely being told in Tom's point of view with muddled thoughts, aspirations, and dreams. Wasn't this supposed to be a story between two people? Seen but not felt, nevertheless. 500 Days of Summer is promising in the retelling of how love is learned and often lost, and the emergence of neo-coupling that is characteristic in today's time.