I'm Pablo E.M.G a.k.a. Pablo Mera and some chums call me "trompo". A bit of an odd duck, I suppose—a stutterer with A+ blood, a rugger man who loves Metallica and Oasis, and not a single one of those things is about to change.
The following text is a reflection on the subtle tyranny of our upbringing, a kind of inherited intellectual chloroform. It’s a bit of a personal one, so bear with me.
We've been utterly bamboozled by the prevailing commandments of our time. It’s a generational affliction, a mental straightjacket woven from well-worn platitudes: "Boys don't cry," "Girls are this, girls are that." Life, utterly and brutally simplified. But that simplicity, you see, was nothing short of devastating.
It was, of course, far easier not to think. Absolutely. Especially for those of us who came of age in an era where certain questions were strictly verboten, and obedience was the order of the day.
Then, one day, with the passing of time, a dreadful realisation dawned upon us: "What if everything we've been told is a complete and utter lie?" Some of us managed to reboot. Others, sadly, remain trapped in an inescapable labyrinth of these inherited mandates, clutching onto a life that isn't quite real.
As Mariano José de Larra so astutely put it: "The heart of man needs to believe something, and it believes lies when it finds no truths to believe."
And so, mental health became just another taboo—another item on the endless list of tools used to manipulate us. Because if you think, if you question, if you dare to feel pain... well, you're just a bother, aren't you?
We dutifully honoured the philosophies of our elders because "one simply must obey." Fathers, grandfathers, priests, vicars, professors... If they were alive today, if they had to face the dizzying complexity of this world, they wouldn't have a clue where to begin.
Yet, the record plays on repeat: "Boys don't cry, girls are such and such." And so, many choose ignorance, others numb themselves with drink and drugs, and those who think too much find themselves drowning in their own mental tempest.
Because, at the end of the day, the command remains the same: DON'T THINK.
My name is Pablo Mera—Pablo E.M.G to the Anglophone world—and some chums call me "trompo." I'm rather fond of Metallica and Oasis, I play rugby, I'm A+, and I stutter, and none of the above is ever going to change.
◇ There are 12,950+ posts available at http://pablomera.blogspot.com
and I read emails sent to mailto:
mailto:tromp@tromp@hotmail.com
• Pablo E-M is the artistic name of Pablo Mera ,a man who has lived many lives in one. Born in Montevideo and shaped in Asunción, he has been an entrepreneur, cultural curator, soul DJ, keen observer of human nature, and emotional architect of language. Today, he writes, reflects, and creates from the threshold between memory and desire.
His work — be it in words, music, or thought — delves into the subtleties of human behaviour, the unseen forces that shape the tangible world, and the quiet beauty found in contradiction. With an urban sensitivity and a cosmopolitan spirit, Pablo E-M weaves past, future, and the miraculous into each phrase he pens and every idea he sets free.
He believes in what cannot be seen, but can be felt.
And in that which goes unspoken, yet moves the world.