“HE GOT those from 9Gag.”
My seatmate leaned close to whisper this to me while a classmate was reporting before the class. I looked at her, uncomprehending.
When she noticed my blank stare, she looked so shocked that I would have laughed loudly if it weren’t for the situation we were in.
“He got those pictures from 9Gag,” she said, pointing to the images my classmate put in his PowerPoint presentation. “Ano ka ba? Do you not know what 9Gag is?”
She went on whispering about the glory that is this strangely-named thing, and I listened intently.That night, I searched the Internet to see for myself.
And that night marked the 9Gag invasion of my life.
A day would never pass by without a visit to my newfound love. My grandmother would look in amusement whenever she would see me laughing out of the blue, my gaze glued to the monitor of my laptop. I’m sure this amusement would turn into something else if she found out that what I was looking at were jokes and memes of never being serious in class and school woes.
Suffice it to say this strangely-named thing interested me more than current issues that made more sense.
As months passed by, though, I found myself growing tired of 9Gag. Aside from the occasional useful memes, the same things were brought up again and again—school woes, online gaming, sex, and even violence.
And then it dawned on me. I think I know more about 9Gag than more pressing matters like the diminishing awareness of the arts and culture among students today.
I have been a part of the Varsitarian for almost two years now. As Circle editor, I have been to numerous plays, musicals, and exhibits. And I can’t help but feel depressed because a lot of students today know more about the adventures of Derp and Derpina than the timeless works of art of Amorsolo, Edades, and Manansala.
Just recently, our class watched Ballet Manila’s production of Ed Maranan’s Alamat: Si Sibol at si Gunaw.
And the Aliw Theater was jampacked—with cheering Thomasians.
It had to take several professors in the University to convince their students to watch the production. Of course, it took some pressure and persuasion to convince the students to watch, such as academic incentives and less schoolwork.
I watched my classmates stare in awe as ballerinas graced the stage donning colorful costumes and dancing amidst the stage all prepped up with immense props, plants, flowers, trees, and glittering confetti. The audience cheered and started with surprised glee as they “glowed” in the dark in one scene due to the creative lighting. The play received a standing ovation in the end.
And yet, when I asked some of my classmates if they wanted to watch another play, their shrugs and noncommittal looks were enough to reveal the sad truth.
I can’t help but think that students and young people are missing a lot in life. They could make do without marvelling the works of the National Artists, but they could not bear to spend a day without checking out how Derp and Derpina are doing.
This leads me to think the inevitable question—how can we keep our arts alive if we ourselves cannot take to them with the relish and excitement with take to inanities and superfluities such as 9gag and computer games?
