Big Brother is Watching. Should we?

I.

In Orwell's 1984, we are warned of a future where people are constantly exposed to the scrutiny of the ever watchful Big Brother, a system so repressive and oppressive that the mere thought against it is a crime.

For almost a decade now, the term "Big Brother" has entered pop culture as a hit reality TV franchise known all over the world for its hyper-realistic presentation of human drama. The premise is loosely based on Orwell's dystopian future. Strangers are forced to co-habit a common space for a period of time under the watchful eye of Big Brother. Whoever survives this living condition the longest wins the prize.

What was once a cautionary tale of excessive governance has now entered our imagination as a form of entertainment. We no longer fear "Big Brother"; in fact, we have become part of the system, our TV sets glued to Big Brother's eye, become one with Big Brother, ever watchful, ever critical, ever seeing.

Big Brother is watching. We are watching. We are Big Brother.

II.

Quite recently, the new season of a Big Brother spin-off has introduced us to a new concept: "PBB Teen". Stemming from the show "PBB Teens", to be a "PBB Teen" is widely understood as to be an immature person who makes juvenile decisions and mostly makes exaggerated reactions to the simplest problems. It can also mean someone who falls irrevocably in love, depending on context. A "PBB Teen", basically, is someone that even teenagers--in their immaturity-- look down on as an embarrassment to their generation.

In short, "A Pinoy Big Brother Teen" is someone who probably has no idea of how "Big Brother" is a reference to Orwellian dystopia.

From a strong criticism of the government overextending its will and domain, "Big Brother" in its Philippine context has become its polar opposite: a launching pad for careers of people who really, really, really want to be watched all the time. In an ironic turn of events, Orwell's warning against being too closely watched has become an opportunity to be ever present in the public's eye.

"Big Brother" is no longer a warning; "Big Brother" is now an invitation. An invitation to live your life under the ever watchful eye of the people, to subject your life to public scrutiny, to surrender your privacy and become the state's property.

Oh, how our values have changed. Where once we used to value our individuality, our right to think freely and stand up for our beliefs, we now value being used as a commodity.

III.

Once, we had an aquarium in our home. We filled it with goldfishes. Fishes that did nothing but swam all day, lay eggs, eat, shit, and die. They lived their existence solely to entertain the household.

I guess some people would do anything for the attention. Even live in a fishbowl.

Not surprisingly, we have turned our world into one big fishbowl. You think tweeting about your lunch, or posting a Facebook status about your weekend plans mean nothing. But the truth is, every single thing we share on social media is being monitored by brands. Analytic tools are so powerful that geo-tagging is now an inherent features in apps. When you Tweetpic a photo of your lunch, this is most of the information you make public: the model of the phone you are using, the location where the photo was sent from, the time, the date, the food item, the name of the restaurant, your mobile network provider, etc. How can this information be used against you? By providing marketers this information, you grant them data on how to further control your thought process. The more information is being sent by people "digitally socializing", the more data we can use to effectively target you. Next time we want you to buy baked fish, we'll know where to place the ads, we'll know what time to blast you with the message, we know which network to tap to reach you, we'll know where you usually eat your lunch.

Think about it. Big Brother is still watching. And we're letting him.

Metered Preacher Man

"Men growing their hair long is a SIN. It's an offense against God," the cab driver said. To prove his point, he referenced the Bible-- written thousands of years ago, by men who claimed to hear a voice in their heads telling them to (a) kill their sons, (b) stone their wives for the slightest rumor of infidelity, and (c) eating oysters earns you a special place in Hell.

I was on my way to Trinoma, and it really wasn't in my schedule to ride a cab with a frustrated preacher. The moment I sat my cute, bubble butt on the seat, he asked: "Do you have a Bible at home?" I should have remembered my lessons well: Never go with an Evangelist to a second location. Yet, the adventurous side of me--that part of the human brain we have inherited from our crocodile ancestors-- compelled me to go along for the ride, and see where it would lead. I felt it would make a good character study--a lonely, disgraced preacher who has turned to driving cabs for a living, and kills passengers for fun. "Why, yes. We do. I keep one close to my bed, actually," I lied.

Back to men growing their hair long. It was the most ridiculous thing he said so far that night. He went on against tattoos, people who don't pray, and women who dress up in men's clothing. I felt trapped. If I wasn't so worried about my shirt, I would have kicked the door open, and rolled out of the running taxi. He was practically against everything: Muslims, gay men, having impure thoughts. But I had to draw the line somewhere, and it was with men growing their hair long.

"Jesus had long hair," I told him.

"What? Of course not," he said, adamant.

"Yes, he did. Look at all the crucifixes. Beside, there was no barbers yet at that time," I informed him confidently.

He was silent. Deep in his evangelical thoughts. Finally, we reached my destination. I reached for money from my bag, and handed him the fare, adding a little extra because I appreciate passion in people, even when it's misplaced and misguided.

"Jesus had short hair," he couldn't resist saying right before I stepped out of his cab. "I saw a movie once where he had short hair."

All is as it should be.

It's a nice thought. I saw it tattooed on someone's wrist. I was also trying to get a glimpse of what was written on his chest, but it would be highly appropriate, seeing that we were both at work on a convention for doctors.

It's a comforting thought. All is as it should be. It's the one lesson I'm clinging on to right now. It's not enough to accept that "shit happens"; believing that shit happens for a reason, so it can teach you a lesson, free you of something, or there's a yet unseen fortuitous consequence of it, well, ain't that bliss? Every heartbreak you've ever experienced, every disappointment you've ever faced, every thing is a part of what would ultimately make you a better version of you living a better version of your life right now.

When our plans fail, believe in the mantra: All is as it should be. We won't always get what we want, but we'll always get what we need to get. We hope for gold, but we are handed coals. Instead of getting disappointed or heartbroken, think: even gold yields to coals.

At Chili's Greenbelt

Met up with the NJDC last night. We're starting to feel more and more like a multi-cam sitcom barkada, getting the same booth every week, with the blocking geared at one camera. We all got Santa Fe steaks, because Cam-b wanted one. We downed two pitchers of much deserved strawberry mango margarita, and played Pinoy Henyo for an hour or so. It was the nerdiest game ever played of Pinoy Henyo, what with several contentions and qualified yeses, and noes. Also, learned something new about Cessna planes. Which, along with my new knowledge of obstetrics and pediatrics nutrition, would come pretty helpful, if ever I find myself pregnant on a private plane.

These are the photos.

On Orestes Dizon

I've been stuck for the longest time on my current writing project. It's the third volume in my series of young adult novels. Years has passed in real time since the first book was published, but in the timeline of the narrative, it has only been a matter of weeks.

Since I started writing the series, I've got lots of feedback from readers. Most of them positive, some not quite so. Which is just as well.

Anyway, clearly one of the crowd favorites is Orestes Dizon. Orestes Dizon is the son of a senator, and he's gay. He's in the closet because of his particular position among his peers, and he's finding it harder and harder to deal with dealing with public perception and his personal feelings.

What I find problematic about his character is that I'm really not trying to say anything about any LGBT issue. I don't want his story to be an LGBT crusade for acceptance or for gay marriages or whatever. I just want a character torn between his public persona and his private life.

Anyway, one time, I was browsing through the internet, and I saw a meme showing Disney princesses as hipsters. This led me to a link that shows Disney princes as sexy beefcakes (naked, save for the occasional loincloth).

Which got me into thinking, "Hey, the next Disney prince should be gay."

Which I think is a brilliant inspiration for Orestes Dizon.

At the heart of my narrative, Orestes Dizon IS a Disney princess/prince. He's an idealized / idolized person, he lives in his own fairy tale.

Despite JC Penney's initiative to redefine the family, I don't think Disney will be coming up with its own gay Disney prince soon. So, I humbly take on this challenge.

What if the next Disney prince is gay?

I suppose, we'll all have to wait until I'm done writing "DIRT" to find out.

BAYO What's Your Mix Campaign - Alternative Studies

Dear Bayo,

You've had had quite a week. You were expecting excitement for a new campaign, but suffered the backlash of a poorly executed idea instead. There's a chain of blame you can trace, perhaps, pointing a finger at the creative team, another to your own marketing team, but what's the point? There was a series of bad decisions, and what was a campaignable idea was proven to be, yes, campaignable, but only to ridicule itself.

I do not offer more ridicule. You have gone viral. Everyone and their followers are creating mockeries of your "What's Your Mix?" ads. I will not shoot at the low hanging fruit, and glorify myself with easy jokes.

Instead, I'll offer you free professional consult. I love a good challenge. And what's great about this exercise is that neither of us loses anything.

Let's review the campaign, and look at ways we could have done it differently.

The Challenge: Invigorate the brand by daring the consumers to "mix and match" their look. As this is a bold step from traditional notions of "building an ensemble", the challenge is to introduce the idea that "creating your own look IS what makes your outfit fashionable."

INSIGHT: WE ALL HAVE OUR OWN UNIQUE MIXES.

Where You Went Wrong: You interpeted "unique mix" as something genetic and inherent. You positioned models with mixed lineages as "beautiful" and "world class".

THE CRITICAL FLAW: UNLIKE CREATING AN ENSEMBLE,  one CANNOT CHOOSE THEIR MIX.

THE SOLUTION: UNIQUE MIX = The sum total of characteristis and experience that each individual has.

THE EXECUTION YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR:

Juxtaposing the images of "eclectic" ensemble with "character" models, we create "personalities" which the consumers can relate to.

Note: All images herein are used to demonstrate "peg looks". I do not own these images, and I am not using them to promote the brand "Bayo".

[Study 1]

Copy: "50% Haute, 50% HOT"

[Study 2]

Copy: "Full-time Columnist. Part-time Rockstar. Oft-times Inner Child."

CONCLUSION: The critical flaw in the execution is that you defined and prescribed the mix, positioned it aspirationally, without awareness that the consumer cannot control the "mix" as you have defined it (genetically). As an aspiration, one cannot aim to achieve a mix that is part-Filipino, part-something else. However, when you LET THE CONSUMERS DEFINE what their mix is, you then engage the brand into a conversation with your market. You are now asking them to be bold and inventive in DEFINING THEMSELVES BY MIXING AND MATCHING THEIR LOOKS USING YOUR PIECES.

You're welcome.

New Roads to Creativity

I was whining to my friend how I'm finding it exceptionally difficult to do any writing lately, and said something I find truly fascinating.

He said I may have outgrown my writing methods.

This is interesting for me to hear because it may be true. I have been doing the same process since I started, and only because it's a process that works. It's a tried and tested formula. However, I failed to take into account my own rate of maturity. That as years go by, I grow. I acquire new sensibilities, I learn new tricks.

What my friend said is worth exploring. Perhaps it's time for me to find other ways to reach my point of creativity. Maybe I'm growing bored with how I usually approach a problem, and my attacks have been monotonous, if not predictable.

With that thought, I'll go to sleep tonight. Good night, everyone.