By Kwaknit Nagpainit

I see the best minds of my generation deeply engaged in a revolution. I see them misbehaving, rambunctious, giggling in their seats secretly because their teachers has got personality disorders. Born in the age of Tamaguchi, they are caring people, unforgetful, they value lives even if it took the form of a creature at 600 dpi.

I see the best minds of my generation reaching out to the world through the Internet. They are people who know nothing about borders. They are unbounded by racism, by language, by height, by the degrees of nasal elevation. The best minds of my generation are color blind, it is not them who make up the market of any skin-whitening grease in the supermarket shelves. It is only the old and insecure.

I see the best minds of my generation scaling even the most treacherous terrain of killer volcanoes. I see them dying of hypothermia thousands of meters above sea level, and still think it's a much better death than being farted at by smoke-belching buses in the highways of the dark, decadent metro. I see them climbing the steep with a certain kind of impassioned nostalgia, because their righteous elders who have lived long before them were such illegal loggers.

I see the best minds of my generation cringe in the dark alleys of this "shitty, civilized world," comforted by the ooze and warmth of alphabet soup. I see them as individualists, enjoying in the dining room of their own hearts, devouring with private passion instant noodles in a cup. I see the best minds of my generation behaving like the cynical Scrooge. They defy social constructs. They are the great adorers of humanity, but cannot reconcile it with the harshness of a neighbor who would explode upon hearing them playing the Titanic Soundtrack in full blast.

I see the best minds of my generation playing the tamaguchi. I see them offering joss sticks to Leonardo di Caprio and Kate Winslet, rushing for roundtrip tickets to the next boat ride at the port. I see them looking at icebergs when they're supposed to see islands of topless neanderthals and goons bang-banging fishermen to death. I see them skirting the borders of Disneyland, the Eiffel Tower, Sidewalk Cafes because that's a far more interesting world than Whoretown or Shanty Town.

I see them clutching the latest version of the Pugad Baboy series or Chicken Pox for the Soul, and they laugh their heart out softly reading through the hard facts of life, realizing how absurd the world could be. I see the best minds of my generation chatting in the Internet because that's a far better time spent than listening to presidentiables' forum that amounts to nothing but air. I see them boycotting the elections because they are such a bore.

Ah, but the best minds of my generation no longer believe in the daintiness of Maria Clara. In a centennial forum, they stood to declare Salome and Sisa as their heroes. Because they were people who knew what they wanted, fought for it regardless of where it took them. They say of Salome: "She was true to herself and did not care what the people around her would say. She just went about doing what she wanted to do to survive."

The best minds of my generation are howling in the cells, they've been locked up because their elders thought protesting against tuition increases amounts to libel. That's the fate of Mariano Buyagawan Jr. and Perry John Mendoza, student writers from Saint Louis University in Baguio. The two are now running for council seats in their respective homes because they think they can do better than the senile trapos around them.