Postscripts to Elections 2010

Yeah, it’s been a week and most of us already went back to our daily grind. We have no excuse not to. The fever died down hours after the precincts closed last May 10. If only because the results were proclaimed in a matter of hours. Welcome to the 21st century, Philippine elections!



Voting for me was a breeze. My brother went to the precinct early to vote with his friends. He came back a few hours after saying the lines were long. Since the precinct was walking distance from our house, Mom, Sis and I decided to wait until 5 in the afternoon. When the heat is more bearable and most people have voted. Lo and behold, only a few people infront of us on the line. The girl who gave out cluster and precinct numbers immediately found our names on the tattered registry book. A few minutes after I was placing my fingerprint on another registry book and was handed my ballot. It took me only few minutes to shade my choices and I don’t have to use a kodigo because the names were all there.



I had my picks for national positions and local ones until vice-mayor. But I was at a loss when I reached the councilors and party list. Why do we have to elect eight councilors? I barely know these people and what does a councilor do exactly? (I remember that UK is also having their elections and the number of electoral seats are lower. Is there a certain ratio of politicians versus total population? Why is it that we have tens of thousands of public officials but our country is still grossly mismanaged?) So I shaded the names that were quite familiar. I undervoted for councilors which is OK coz the PCOS machine still digested my ballot.

So Elections 2010 leaves much to be desired. There were reports of long lines and PCOS breakdowns. But it was not the doomsday that people feared. To be fair to COMELEC, the PCOS malfunctions are forgivable and expected (I think about 500 out of several thousands deployed). And for something done first time, this was far from a disaster.

I can understand media’s vigilance in reporting problems in different precincts but these are but a spattering of isolated cases. Looking at the total picture, it’s not as bad as we feared. It was relatively peaceful and definitely an improvement. As I said, we were not promised perfection. We just wanted something better and on that parameter, COMELEC delivered.

Say what you want, but I think automation worked. As explained, it was not the voting that was automated but the counting. And the counting process was really amazing. Gone are the days when the teachers will peruse for days to have the certificates of canvass accomplished. This will often lead to protest, inconsistencies, manual errors and, of course, ballot snatching and dagdag-bawas. For what it’s worth, I think we have witnessed the first fraud-free elections.

However, this election is the worst in terms of mudslinging and black propagandas. The social networking sites were exploited to proliferate the bad and the ugly. I received text messages from unknown numbers “exposing” scandals and vendettas (the worst and most baseless was implicating a Gloriaquino tandem...perhaps an answer to Villaroyo?). Good thing that most Filipinos can see beyond the allegations, political gimmickry and insincerity (a word I would have to use for the MV-LL tandem).

Hat’s off to all the people who worked hard to make this election a turning point in our history: from the COMELEC to the teachers to the network reporters and of course the voting public who wants to have their voices heard.

(Sidebar: I was watching the news from all channels and can’t help but compare the local news networks to the likes of CNN. If you watch ABS/GMA/TV5 you would think that the election was a failure. Which could be borne out of vigilance and social responsibility. Whereas CNN painted a peaceful and successful elections. Watching CNN news made me proud to be a Filipino. The blonde reporter said that the election was relatively peaceful and festive and she lauded the Filipinos for cooperating despite the heat, the long lines and the birth pains of the first automated elections. She even said the Filipinos seem to be smarter and wants change in order to rise from the corrupt administration that has suppressed us for so long).

Just some last comments and jabs regarding the elections and the aftermath:

* A Yahoo headline: Did Willie Revillame cause Manny Villar’s downfall? I didn’t read the article but I don’t think Willie has that effect politically; his troubles are his own and he is a self-incriminating villain. Villar just self-destructed. JZ was right...character assassination is way too easy but to behave like a respectful man worthy of our vote is hard. Manny was not able to sustain his campaign and its tail-end was marred with low-blows (the crying mother and hysterical sister). He was increasingly pikon and his indifference to the issues thrown at him casted a lot of doubts.

* Kids may be singing your jingles but are they voting?

* Gibo was at the wrong place, wrong time and wrong alliance. Too bad coz I think he has it.

* It was amazing how the national result mirrored the controversial surveys. Which should have shut up the hecklers of SWS and Pulse Asia. This is statistics at its finest; as long as you obtain a representative sample, the accuracy is quite high. It is not about the numbers per se but the trending. If you don’t understand the logic and the science of a survey, then you must have flunked your math subjects. Math is logical and scientifically proven. As compared to what… the psychological tests that some people tend to believe? No offense to psychologist but the human psyche is way too complex and subjective to be defined, graded or tested.

* It is interesting to note that we have a mix of the old (hmmm...I’m tempted to call them trapos) and the new. The Aquinos and Marcoses are back in the upper echelons of politics. I can understand Aquino’s popularity but I think the Marcoses were seen in a good light after Arroyo’s anti-Midas touch. But I find it odd that some people are really THAT popular and are thus clinging to power (the outgoing and the president-before-her included).

* A few days ago, I saw on TV the bottom three presidential losers (JC, Perlas, Jamby) questioning the election process and results. They said they are not doing this for themselves but for the Bayan. Well, I’ve got news for the three of them: the Bayan is not complaining at all. And the bayan was intelligent enough to NOT vote for sour losers like you. Mr. JC, you seem like a nice guy but your Math is a failure. How can you expect to have the same votes as your highest ranking senator (that's 12 slots vs 1)? It does not follow also that you will win in your place of origin (if our outgoing mayor or governor ran for a national position, I will not vote for him). Mister (sic) Jamby, it is not impossible for Villars voters to have gone to Erap and it does not follow that you will be guaranteed several million votes if you spend several millions for ads (think Prospero Pichay).

After all this fanfare, I hope the whole nation will soon get over it and start the re-building. Yellow, green, orange or whatever…there is no longer the need to take sides. We have been given a new slate and let’s make good use of it. This chance will not come in another 6 years. We have made the decision and let us all stand behind it. It’s about time we end this enduring darkness and, as a nation, step towards the sun.

This is it, Philippines!

Watt. What?!

I had the shock of my life when I saw my April electric bill. The liwanag ng buhay went off of me.



My average consumption is 50-70 kilowatts per month. That’s about 200 to 400 pesos depending on Meralco’s scheme to suck money out of us through generation charges. There was even a time when I did not pay anything because of their infamous refund.

This is my normal consumption considering that I only have a few appliances in my rented unit. Just the basics: TV, ref, electric fan and stove. I have a DVD and oven toaster which I seldom use. Plus I am only home from 10PM-8AM and most of this time I am passed out with the lights off. I’m not even there on weekends.

I’ve consumed 50-70 kilowatts in the last 3 years. Winter, spring, summer or fall notwithstanding. So can someone please explain to me why my April bill reached record high?

150 killowatts or 1,800 pesos!



My neighbour friend who has aircon and at home most of the time has the same bill amount.

I am no pea-brain so I know something’s wrong. Even if Meralco sweetly attached a letter explaining that it is summer and consumption rises with the mercury and generation charges are inevitably higher, there is no way I could have consumed that much electricity.

Theory #1: Manong Meralco read the kuntador (meter) wrong. This is because the dial comes close the next number when it is almost that number, adding a quick 100 kW to the reading. Like reading 395 as 495.

But when I checked, the meter is already digital. My neighbor said they replaced it with digital after Ondoy. I therefore conclude that the theory is false. Even a 2-year old can read a digital number.

Theory #2: Someone tapped on my electrical lines. So I made a public rant to my neighbours about my bill and that I am calling Meralco. To scare the theoretical culprit off.

As planned, I called Meralco Roosevelt to report my predicament. A girl answered with a bored voice and asked my billing details. I did not finish my horror-over-electric-bill story because she cut me off and told me someone will just check the next day.

Well to be fair, someone came the next day. Seconds before I was to leave for the office. He checked my place and took note of the appliances and number of light bulbs. That was all. He never asked anything which would have explained my kW usage. But I volunteered some information that I only come here to sleep. He smiled and said “Hideout lang?” As if I was a not-so-proud husband using this place to house the concubine. Or a drug lord who uses this for pot sessions. “Yes, hideout lang,” I said. I almost told him “You can think what you want, just correct my effin electric bill!”

That was last Friday. And I don’t know what will happen next.



I know how to read the kuntador and compute my current kW. It is telling me that I have consumed 80 kW in the last 15 days. Unbelievable!

Theory #3: I am having electric dreams and my body is absorbing electricity as I sleep.

Flying Without Things (Excess Baggage Not Allowed)

Once in a long while, a movie comes poised to slap you in the face and pat your back at the same time. Up In The Air is that kind of movie. It patronizes and mocks the person that you are. A satire where no one is laughing because while it was fun, it was almost cruel in its intense honesty.



Up In The Air is a cosmopolitan dramedy that humanizes the antiseptic lifestyle of a modern alpha male (modern existential man, to be exact). A man who looks at himself and finds his value in VIP cards and frequent-flyer miles. Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is a professional Shiva. He is in the business of firing people, sugar-coating job termination as an opportunity to chase your other dreams. He lives a high life that is spent mostly in-transit and doing the dirty work that corporations have no balls to do themselves. He is deeply in love with his job and its platinum-card privileges. He seldom comes home; and home to him means priority airport lounges and humdrum hotel rooms. A self confessed cynic, he has isolated himself from his family, from relationships and people in general. Hmmm.

Enter two women who will shake Ryan's clockwork world. Alex (Vera Farmiga), the female version of himself who engages Ryan in a casual relationship which will soon turn into his sweetest disappointment. And Natalie (Anna Kendrick a.k.a. Twilight’s Jessica), an ambitious newcomer who has a brilliant idea of using the internet to sack people professionally. She makes Ryan squirm in insecurity and she questions his philosophy in a bid to make him see the other side of being human. Alex is the Ryan now, Natalie is Ryan from 10 years ago. Alex is the karma, Natalie is the conscience.

Take out the hot girls and Ryan will look like someone I know. As a friend who knows me so well has pointed out, this is the Hollywood adaptation of my life. In a crude kind of way. My life, my rules, my philosophy. Yes, my backpack.

All the telltale signs are there. Single man who enjoys a thriving career and non-existent “life.” A lifestyle made by choice, mind you. I almost smiled at Ryan’s radical philosophy: What’s in your backpack? He preaches that relationships with people and things tie you down and if you rid yourself of those you are free...well, up in the air.

In Ryan’s wise words, I am travelling light; I am living a life that is divested of relationships and all other things. My life is ruled by my job and I am deliberately alone most of the time. And guess what...I am not complaining. This is the life I have wanted and designed for myself. This is the life I am used to. My rhyme and reason. I know most people don’t understand it. But if being boring and two-dimensional meant that life will be less complicated, then I am in this boat alone. No frills, no fireworks. Simplicity is the spice of my life.

I often wondered at what point did I exactly de-sensitized my existence. I really can’t tell. I think it was the sum of all fears, doubts, disappointment and letdowns. Over the years, I have tried different versions of myself. And lately I have settled for what is most comfortable; the path of least resistance. I play the run-of-the-mill guy who exudes cool awesomeness under pressure but with a suppressed caustic side. Hard candy with a surprise center.

The movie ended with a sharp sting, perhaps the most sophisticated and heartbreaking ending in silverscreen history. Like most great movies, it leaves more questions than answers.

Yes, I have anticipated that kind of ending to my story. I’ll confess that there are times when I feel empty and hollow. Pointless even. But I prefer this to being caught up in a tangle of emotions and I see attachment as a double-edged sword. I’ll admit that sometimes paranoia creeps in. What if I die alone in my rented house and it will take days before anyone realizes I’m gone? What if people will stare at my sarcophagus and realize that they know me but never really KNOW me.

How about some self pity...what happens during those winning moments? Will I be like Ryan and celebrate the realization of my platinum dreams with a total stranger? But then I realize that if I am man enough to own this lifestyle, then I’m also man enough to face the consequences.

I’ve also asked myself if I am master or if I am slave. In my search for stability, maybe I have trapped myself within a mechanical routine. That in trying to avoid the high and lows, I ended up running in circles. And I like it that way.

Under its high gloss production (it's a Clooney vehicle for crying out out), Up In The Air is actually brutal and hard hitting in its emotional truth; an entertaining depiction of modern socio-economics. In more ways than one, I find this movie deeply comforting if not a little disturbing. I always thought that I was fighting a battle of my own. That all the previous events in my life have conspired to bring me to this point. Little did I know that I am only one of many. I was churned out of a cookie cutter after all.

The next time someone asks me why I am devoted to a life of lucrative solitude, I’ll just smile and say: I’m up in the air.

On A Geo-Physical High

Note: Pardon the delay; I wrote this blog a few hours after the Chile quake hit. But it is only now that I had time to post it.

I am on a natural and geo-physical high. I know this sounds inappropriate considering the alarming turn of events of the past few hours: the 8.8 magnitude Chile quake and the Pacific-wide tsunami alert.



And yes, I know this sounds a little too geeky. But geology is one of my first loves, even pre-dating my love for the written words.

Blame it on this one summer vacation we spent at the grandparent’s residence. The only book I saw was a hard-bound Science textbook. I think it was part of a grade-school encyclopaedia, the kind given by the US Salvation Army to further our Western education. Anyway, for lack of anything entertaining to do, I perused the said book. It was a volume on the Earth and its physical properties. Ergo, the birth of my fascination with Geology. I remember thinking why it was called Earth when it was plainly Water (considering that it was ¾ water!). You can tell my sarcastic genes are fully developed even as a child.

Then in college, as I was pursuing my ill-fated first degree, I took Geology as a Science elective. And what do you know, my grade is Geology was way better than my major subjects. And I impressed the teacher since Day One. During our first class, she asked what the different kinds of rocks are and their differences. Of course, I did not raise my hand (I am not a fan of recitations). No one dared to answer. So she drew a random card from the recently-submitted class cards and called out my name. I recited the answer, remembering it word-for-word from that Science text book of my childhood summer. Teacher smiled in satisfaction and remembered my name since then. I almost shifted to Geology if not for my family threatening to disinherit me if I pursued a degree that is a “hobby” rather than a “profession.”

Fast forward to today. Before going out last night, I already saw the breakings news on CNN about the Chile quake. Oh no, not this soon. A quake is still a sensitive global concern, considering that the ghost of the Haiti quake is still lurking in the background. And when I got back, it was still the breaking news but now CNN is heralding the possibility of a tsunami hitting the Pacific countries, in a tone that is almost apocalyptic. Who can forget the tsunami that raced across the Indian Ocean a day after Christmas 2004 (following a magnitude 9 quake in Indonesia)? An unspeakable number of people died in countries as far as half the world away (in Africa).

That tsunami was an eye-opener and painful lesson. Now I am amazed at how sophisticated the tsunami warning system has become. They can even predict the probable time and the path it will take. Of course, it’s not an exact science but a little paranoia is better than a repeat of the Banda Aceh tragedy. These days, they had a lot of reference data, saying that a similar quake (one of the strongest in history) happened in the 1960’s and spun tsunamis as far as Australia and the Philippines.



I just don’t know how the local government will react should the Pacific Warning System declare that a tsunami hit is imminent. Frankly, after Ondoy, I lost faith in the system. In a third-world kind of irony, media has become more reliable than government and Kris Aquino can unite us better than the president.

As of press time, smaller-than-expected tsunamis have struck the smaller Pacific islands but damage was thankfully conservative. The tsunami warning has been lifted in most of the territories including Eastern Philippines.

A few minutes ago, I was sitting in my parked car while waiting for my Mom. Engine was turned off and to kill time I was deleting some messages on my phone. Then I felt the earth heave. I was gripped by fascinating terror. I checked to see if a big truck has passed which might have caused the movement. None. The slight tremor continued for a few seconds. If I had some animals near me, I could have confirmed from their sound and expression if there was actually a quake.

I remembered a similar incident in high school. It was wee hours of the morning and I was finishing my Drafting plate. I was enveloped by the usual sounds of night time: crickets, occasional barking dogs and the rickety sounds of a house settling. Suddenly everything was silent; like I was abruptly immersed in a vacuum. Uh-Oh...tell-tale signs! True enough the ground started to shake. I felt it and saw it because the technical pen I was holding went crazy, as if mimicking a seismograph; almost ruining my precious drawing.

I don’t know if I am just paranoid or a slight quake really hit today at around 10AM. But still I am amazed by it all. Ah, the power of nature. In some way, it puts things in perspective. To realize we are just an insignificant piece in this jigsaw puzzle called the Earth.

***

P.S. Just some comic relief: Every time I would type the word quake on this blog, I would end up typing quaker. You know, the famous oatmeal brand. Which goes to show what I have been used to these days. I’m so NOT a geographer.

Update: No quake happened that Sunday. It was just my paranoia trying to shake my boots.

Gunning Down Valentines

In a week’s time the world will be enveloped in a scarlet shroud, like ribbons of blood tangling with water. It’s the feast day for die-hard romantics and hard-core sappies.

Is it any coincidence that the color of love is also the color of blood and pain?



In writing this I know I will be accused of being a sourgrape or even bitter. Whatever. In my humble opinion, Valentines is a terrible marketing ploy, an occasion orchestrated by Hallmark, et al. It’s like Christmas but sprinkled with saccharine charm and cheese. Honestly, do you need a special day to confess the depths and potency of your love? With all due respect to “thoughtful” people, I never believed in grandiose displays of affection. Roses and chocolates are absurdly theatrical and there’s something phony, insincere and scheming about them. I’m an advocate of the little constant things. Let me put it this way. No Ferrero Rocher but I will always have a Choc Nut handy whenever she needs one.

But anyway, what do I know about that crazy thing called love? Love and religion are my two most favorite arguments. And so I remember the metaphor made famous by the pa-autograph moments of my grade school days: Love is like a rosary full of mysteries. Come to think of it, it makes sense. Joyful, sorrowful and devious. Amen.

Being single and alone is no longer a stigma. Still, I wish those who give single people a funny look will realize that relationships are acquired taste; they are not for everyone. For me, the feeling they call love is overrated. I’ve confessed that I am a love atheist. I like sarcastic FU songs (the likes of Trains's Drops Of Jupiter and Lifehouse's Sick Cycle Carousel) and I have a playlist on my iPod called P.S. I Hate Love for such songs. Like that 3HO!3 song, L...O...V...E is just another word I’ll never learn to pronounce. It’s a concept I cannot grasp, like the laws of physics. It’s a journey I just don’t have the map for.



Who can blame me for being cynical? Life did not show me enough reasons to believe that relationships are worth it. Fact: My parents did not exactly have a happy marriage. Fact: I spent half my college life playing counsellor to my squabbling mag-ON friends. Even now, I’ve been privy to the intrigues and scandals of my married friends and they run to me for advice and confessions (And not once have I asked: Why me? What do I know about this stuff?). Fact: One of my best friends is happily divorced with only her great kids as proud reminders of what used to be. True story: One Tita is currently in distress because her only son just fell in love with the neighbour’s help. See what I mean?

Fact: In the handful of times that I tried to take a plunge, something else in my life goes wrong or I am placed in a compromising and impossible situation. Like life telling me that I can’t have my cake and eat it too.

Oh and did I mention the pain? That if I want to relive it I will just watch One More Chance over and over again.

I rest my case. We live in a world where the Ted Mosbys play second fiddle and the Barney Stinsons get all the action. After all (as quoted from 500 Days of Summer), women prefer men with Brad Pitt’s face and Jesus’ abs. And we have Cosmo magazine to blame. I refuse to take part in that blah nonsense.



Sometimes it bothers me that I like doing things alone. I am happy with my status quo. I live alone and I love the peace and quiet of solitude. I can go on self-dates; walking around the mall by myself or jogging alone. I don’t like eating out so I’ll never be placed in the awkward situation where I am alone and a loser in a fancy restaurant. I don’t need to be with someone to enjoy coffee, a book or movie. And if I want to be around people, I have my family and very select circle of friends. I never felt the sense of needing someone in my life or having this void I need to fill. Yes, you can say I feel complete.

I am living my life and that’s all that matters. How can you measure the promise of love when it’s weighing against a chance that comes only once?

Friends have called me commitment phobic, like most guys. I’m not confirming nor denying. It’s just that I have too much on my plate right now and I see relationship as a dessert. Something for later. Or something I can skip altogether but I’ll still feel full and satisfied.

I know what people will say. That I have NOT met the right person. But maybe I’m too stubborn that even Destiny has given up on me. Then again, destiny and ever-after be damned. Say what you want. I’d rather be ALONE than UNHAPPY. If you know what I mean.

If it’s your thing, happy Valentines to you!



***

So tell me isn’t happiness
Worth more than a gold diamond ring?
I’m willing to do anything
To calm the storm in my heart
Not looking for a miracle
Just a reason to believe

KThxBye, 2009...Hello, 2010!

Where does time go? A few breaths ago, we were closing the decade and shooing 2009 away. Now we are already a fifth into 2010 and Christmas/New Year was a thing of the past.

Before I say anything more, HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone! May the dawn of the new decade bring us closer to the brighter future we all long for, be it in our personal lives or as a country.



While many people think that the new year marks a fresh start, a new beginning; I’d like to think of it as a MOVING ON. Especially after our experiences in 2009, an annus horribilis for most people.

It was the year of challenges and triumphs for our country. While we seem to be afloat amidst the global economic crunch, we were hit by the storm of the century. Storms, to be exact. The scenes from Ondoy and Pepeng are forever seared in our memory. And amidst the horrorscapes of devastation, there are the proverbial rainbows after the rain. The spirit of bayanihan is in the DNA of every Filipino. We CARE, and that is half the battle won already. I still remember the girl who had a cast on her right shoulder but was helping us pack relief goods. With only her left hand. We need everyday heroes like her.

We celebrated the people who made us proud to be Filipinos. The death of democracy icon Cory Aquino revived the nationalism and it is a miracle that even in death, Cory showed us the way. Manny Pacquaio, Brillante Mendoza and Efren Penaflorida erased the global fallacy that we are a country of domestic helpers. But a few hours after CNN toasted Efren as their Hero of the Year, the Maguindanao massacre hugged the CNN headlines and shocked the world. Ergo, Ampatuan became our Villain of the Year.

On a personal level, I think I did well in 2009. I will even go as far as saying that this is one of my best years ever. It felt like after running in the shadows for so long, I suddenly burst into my own pocket of sunshine. I am usually wax nostalgic as the year comes to a close. At the end of 2009, I did not feel a twinge of regret or remorse that that I wasted the year. I did my part in 2009! I felt happily invincible that even the ghosts of the past failed to haunt me.

To start the new year and new decade right, I got obsessed in organizing my life. It started with the makeover of our house. Seeing everything spic and span and seemingly new is a natural high for OCs like me.

A new year also means new journals for me. And I have two journals. The green one is for tracking my finances (weekly budgets, credit card purchases) and personal stuff (date for changing contact lens, wardrobe plan, wish lists, reminders, etc.)



The second one is for jotting my thoughts which will soon find its way into my blog. Or for writing inspiring passages (even inspiring tweets)I come across. Thanks to C for giving me that leather cover! It makes me feel like a legit writer.

For this blog, I plan to do a little makeover. Of course there will be my usual musings and rants. But I might veer away from the entertainment blogs (music, movies). In my own little way, I want to promote positive change. Hence, I will be sharing tidbits which can improve lives, change perspectives and promote well being and empowerment. Nothing political or preachy, but definitely something close to our hearts. Wink, wink.

Placing yourself in the right moment puts you in the best position for BETTER moments. While I will miss 2009, I’d like to think that better things are in store for 2010.

I will make 2010 count! So can you.

Now That's What I Call Christmas!

I am a Christmas-phile; I never lost that child-like amazement at the magic of Christmas. At this age, Christmas still leaves me breathless and ecstatic (like the song goes...if every day could be Christmas). Forget the toxic holiday rush, the stress of buying gifts and the financial implication. It’s the time of the year when I actually forget the perils of my 9-5 job and prioritize my family, my friends and all the things I love doing.

This 2009, Christmas was again a blur of food, festivities and 10-shot family photos. Though the season is far from over, here are 10 things I enjoyed doing or will (still) do this Christmas break.

(1) Christmas Carols. Do you hear what I hear? As early as November, I start listening to my Christmas playlist/CDs just to get in the holiday mood. Mock my “dirty pop” choice but I dig the Christmas albums of Mariah Carey (Merry Christmas), NSync (Home For Christmas) and 98 Degrees (This Christmas). Would you believe that I listen to Christmas songs on my iPod any time of the year, especially when I start to feel depressed. All the one-horse-open-sleigh and chestnuts-roasting-on-an-open-fire never fails to pick me up.



(2) Shopping. For gifts, of course... to fulfil my holiday obligations. But somehow, I also end up buying gifts for myself (heck, I deserve it). My usual destinations are Shangri-La Mall, Duty Free, Trinoma and despite my reluctance to patronize their malls, SM Megamall/Podium. This year the Marquee Mall in Angeles opened and quickly became one of my favourites (free parking, nice mix of stores). I tend to visit the malls with lower foot traffic and I come during off-peak hours. But then again, every hour is peak hour about a week before Christmas. My favorite shops are Make Room/Handyman (for useful home stuff), Hobbes and Landes (for kid’s stuff), Rustan’s (for my sashyal friends) and Powerbooks (for booklover friends). Sorry but during this time, you cannot drag me to Greenhills or Divisoria where all the gift items are cheap but you could barely seen them because they are covered with humans.



(3) Gift-giving. As a champion of the marshmallow test, I have enough EQ to resist opening all my gifts until the strike of midnight on Christmas day. I love receiving gifts I can use (even socks, a hankies or Post-Its). Pardon my worldliness but since we are talking about gifts, this year has been the best harvest of gifts. I can practically use everything! Thanks to all the people who complained that they find it difficult to buy me a gift but did a great job anyway!



(4) Reunions. Even if I get to be grilled about my relationship status (single but happy, thank you for asking), I look forward to Christmas day when our whole clan gathers at the ancestral house and celebrate. Great food… videokefest…bingo games. This year, we added two games that rocked the house: Hep Hep Hooray and Pinoy Henyo. I realized I sucked at the first one. Meanwhile, the fastest Pinoy Henyo record was 18 seconds, set by the tandem of my cousin Patrick and brother Louie. Here’s how their exchange went:

Tao ba? Oo!
Sikat ba? Oo!
Artista ba? Oo!
Channel 2 ba? Oo!
Nakikita ba sa teleserye? Oo!
Nasa May Bukas Pa ba? Oo!
SANTINO!!!

Their other quick exchange went like this:

Tao ba? Oo!
Sikat ba? Hindi!
Ordinaryong tao ba? Oo!
Nandito ba? Pwede!
Patay na ba? Oo!
AMA ONIONG!!! (our deceased Lolo)

For friends, December 30 has always been reserved for my long time (meaning grade school) peer group. We have a lot of catching up to do, especially this year when we didn’t see each other during our birthdays because of family emergencies. I wish we can have the same regular reunion sked for my high school barkada and college orgmates.

(5) Home Makeover. OC side up! My Mom established this routine of general cleaning of the house days before Christmas. While this is primarily to tidy up the house for holiday visitors, admittedly this is the only time of the year when our schedules allow us to organize the clutter we manage to collect all-year long. This year, I finished the makeover of our living room, kitchen, dining room and toilet/bath before Christmas. And before we welcome the new year, I would have gone through the rest of the house (bedrooms and garage/porch).



For my other home (the office), I organize my office table (which screams busy and toxic) during the last work day of the year. This year was extra exciting because our department transferred to a new space on the same floor.



(6) Read, (7) Watch and (8) Write. If you are a workaholic like me, it is already a luxury to do the things you love. This vacation, I caught up on my reading. However, I ditched The Time Traveler’s Wife and picked up some Christmas books instead (Finding Noel by Richard Paul Evans). When my brain starts to hurt from the imagery of the text, I shift to DVDs. I brought home some DVDs I have yet to watch. Plus, there are Christmas-themed movies I watch every year (Serendipity and Love Actually). Yet on Christmas Day, I ended up watching Home Alone (for the 814th time). Lastly, I need to catch-up on my other favorite creative outlet and stress-buster: blogging. I need to stop tweeting and do some serious writing.



(9) Foodtrip. So I have been starving myself all year long. And I am also trying to get back on my all-white-meat diet. But Christmas is the perfect excuse to damn the calories and pig out. For some semblance of nutritional balance, I added more greens to the Christmas menu this year (with a recipe for salad dressing courtesy of R). But the desserts are provocatively sinful. Rich fruit salad, chocolates, cakes, rice cakes, ice cream,...you name it! I have a theory that the Selecta Gold Selection (especially Vanilla Almond) is a ploy concocted by the flailing gyms to increase membership. Or the Vicky Belos of the world to create more demands for lipos.



(10) Sleep. Like a baby. Zzzzzz.



Even if I miss my office friends, I am enjoying my time off.



Dear Santa, please slow down the time. I am excited at what the new year will bring but I am enjoying this and am not ready to go to work yet. I've been a good boy naman. Please?


(Santa Bella courtesy of YP).

Enjoy the rest of the Holidays, folks!

A Hallmark Christmas SMS

SMS killed the Hallmark greeting card. Since the advent of texting, it’s been part of the Christmas tradition to send a text greeting to friends and loved ones as early as Christmas Eve (which explains why the networks are clogged beginning 5pm of the 24th). Empirical evidence shows that more than 200 million messages will be sent within these hours (that’s 20 million people or a quarter of our population multiplied by average 10 SMS per person).



Yes, I fall victim to this tradition. But as a self-proclaimed disciple of arts and letters, I never send forwarded SMS. I just “borrow” some lines and give it my own twist. Which makes it some kind of original and a little more thoughtful.

Last Christmas my message goes: "As we celebrate the season, let us remember to celebrate THE REASON. A wonderful Christmas filled with peace, laughs, love and blessings to you and your family."

This was inspired by a tweet sent by an ANC news anchor (initials: TM).

The funny thing is that my message gets resent and recycled. Yeah, like a stubborn chain letter. I get it back at least five times; which means a friend forwarded it to other people...including myself or to another friend who sent it back to me.

And that’s just fine with me. Consider it my share in spreading the holiday spirit.

I hope everyone’s enjoying the holidays!

The New Perspective

I’ve read somewhere that we cannot control the evil tongues of others, but a GOOD LIFE will enable us to disregard them. This mantra rings true, especially at times like these when I have broken free of what used to drench me and knock me down.

Hence, the new perspective. The new looking glass.



A certain date is approaching real fast, and it usually sends me spinning in a pensive and introspective mood (a soliloquy of the non-verbal kind). What have I become at this point in time? Excuse my being self-anointing but the answer to that question is definitely...BETTER.

Lately, I surprise even myself. How I handle certain situations and certain people. Yes, there are still the hissy fits and adult tantrums but only when the situation really calls for it.

I don’t sweat the small and non-existent stuff as much. Yes, even what other people think (especially people who don’t even deserve my two cents). Love me or hate me, I’ll live. I’ve also learned to respect (and shake-off) other people’s nuances and idiosyncrasies (the politically correct term for mood swings).

Just this week, I came face-to-face with one of the sources of my stress some eons ago. And though she was poised to spit on my face (literally, of course), I held my ground and kept it cool. James Dean cool. My lips formed an empty smile, out of courtesy. She meant to disarm me but her “game” vaporized before it can even graze my skin. I am THAT invincible.

In parallel, my friend D blogged about half-wits who leave nasty and pointless comments on his blog. I know the feeling. Some people have a way of imposing their opinions on others. They use the freedom of speech as a license to make a fool of themselves. I told D to chill, they just want pieces of him (maybe that PJ collection) or wants to be him.

As I am rebuilding my urbanized life after Ondoy washed away some remnants of the old me, I got caught in the excitement of starting anew. Ergo, my silver lining. Change now excites me, whereas it used to stress me a lot. Is this a sures sign of being "stable?"

On a grander scale is the realization that while there are things that I want or am deprived of, there are a lot of things that I have and am grateful for. Looking back, there were times when I longed for greener pastures. Only to realize (thankfully before it’s too late) that a greener pasture usually comes with a huge water bill (wink, wink).

Often, it is best to let the natural course of things unfold. I watch, amazed, as the pieces just fall on their proper places. And they do fit seamlessly...far better than if I have intruded. I stand back now and see the rhyme and reason.

I never knew it could happen to me. But in the dead of winter, I found my eternal summer.



***

I feel the salty waves come in
I feel them crash against my skin
And I smile as I respire because I know they'll never win

Stop there and let me correct it
I wanna live my life from a new perspective

And who cares divine intervention
I wanna be praised from a new perspective
- Panic! At The Disco

Life After Ondoy

This week has been surreal in a cataclysmic kind of way. After Ondoy (Ketsana) sent a record amount of rain last weekend, the most populated parts of Luzon was plunged into a state of horrible devastation. Lives were lost and lives were changed.

Monday morning in the office was gloomy. Although more than half was able to report to work, we worry about those who were severely affected. Everyone present seemed lost in their own bubble of sheer luck. Like we were all holding a fragile bottle of felix felicis in our hands. Being a “survivor” comes with a trickle of guilt. After seeing the horrorscapes on TV, most of the unaffected felt like they won a second lease on life.

Conversations were limited to stories of the weekend’s disaster. And in some stories we find something funny. Trust Filipinos to find some light humor in the midst of these challenging trials.

As P said, there is nothing like a disaster to put things into perspective. For what it’s worth, Ondoy was a painful eye-opener. For both victims and survivors.

Here are the things I want to change after this catastrophe. When the muck and mud has been cleared, we have no choice but move on and swallow Ondoy’s bitter pill.

Weather Forecast Should Include Expected Rainfall. For a country visited by no less than 14 typhoons yearly, typhoon is a fact of life. PAGASA (whose forecast accuracy is questionable) warns us about coming typhoons using Signals 1 to 4. But these signals only foretell wind strength. As Ondoy showed us, rains and resultant floods can be as destructive.



Telecoms Should Provide Calamity Text Advisories. Come on... as the text capital of the world, we are pestered by text messages informing us about sales, promos and marketing gimmicks. But at the height of calamity, we were left in the cold. The government should require the big three telecoms to provide info blast (weather forecast, traffic, evacuation plans) in times of disaster.



There Should Be A Typhoon/Flood Drill. We have heard of fire and earthquake drills; I think a typhoon and flood drill should also be in place. On a greater scale, our country needs to beef up its disaster preparedness measures. And I nominate Kris Aquino to lead this drill (so that everyone will follow). Sarcasm aside, we need to inform people where to go during calamities. Places can be marked as “flood or earthquake shelters,” meaning it’s safe to go there when disaster strikes. Educate your kids also on what to do. Teach them MacGyver instincts.Like when Ondoy flash floods happened, people didn’t realize that they can put empty plastic bottles inside a bag or sack and use these as “floaters.”



Study Ondoy’s Destructive Pattern For Future Warning References. Many firsts happened over the weekend. Floods inundated places that were once safe. First time that the floods reach the second floor in some places. Someone should study the trend so they can give precious warnings for upcoming disasters. For example, at what amount of rainfall should this and this area be flooded? At what critical level should Marikina River be to start a forced evacuation?



That Everyone Should Have A Disaster Kit. Very much like first aid kits, this can be a plastic container containing “living” essentials: canned food, Quaker Instant Oatmeal (better than rice or noodles in terms of storage and cooking convenience), candles, matches, long-life crackers and don’t forget the can opener...inflatables are optional; which can last your family for 2-3 days. This should be placed in the safest and accessible part of the house (and checked once in a while if some food has gone stale). We will never know when disaster will strike (think earthquake or tsunami). Also, those with cars should have a survival kit in their trunks. Get an old bag and place water, biscuits and a full set of clothes inside.



That Images Of Ondoy’s Aftermath Be Shown Before The May Elections. We elect people to “govern” us especially in times of distress. Where are these people when we need them the most?! You can argue that they were helping out silently or secretly (without media coverage). But still, it’s disappointing to realize that we were led by Tina Monson-Palma, Kris Aquino and Kuya Kim in the past week. (Which reminds me, these three should be given humanitarian awards. You can say what you want about Kris, but she rose to the occasion and HELPED IN A BIG WAY. How many famous people can claim that?)



Sadly, Metro Manila did not learn from the Milenyo experience. I hope this second blow of Ondoy will make us take stock about certain things. We are not sinners (as the now-famous FB status declared), but to NOT LEARN from this experience will make us a bunch of fools.

A little paranoia and some preparedness might get us through the next Ondoy, the next Pepeng or the next Arroyo.

Dispatches From The Fringes Of Typhoon Ondoy

On the 23rd of September (Wednesday), PAGASA meteorologists noted the presence of a low pressure area on the east of Luzon. They initially said it will not develop into a full-blown typhoon. By Friday evening (September 25), PAGASA released the first typhoon signals. Signal numbers 1 and 2. Quite common and nothing alarming for a country that is frequented by typhoons almost year-round.

Tropical Storm (technically not typhoon) Ondoy made landfall between Quezon and Aurora on Friday night. In the next 12 hours, it will dump rains that will submerge huge parts of Luzon, including Manila. Submerge will be an understatement; for this will be one of the worst rain and floods in recent memory. More than 50 people will die and the damage will be unspeakable.

I went home Friday evening earlier than usual to watch the finale of my favorite soap. Moderate rain was falling when we got out of the office. Upon arriving home, I saw the newsbreak about the typhoon signals. I am sensitive to news like this because I live near a creek which has overflowed three times in the past months. I watched TV and packed my weekend bag during commercial breaks; just in case I have to go home to Bulacan in a hurry. I was able to do a few laundry, tidied my room and even installed new kitchen shelves. The rain has been falling in varying intensity and I panic when it pounds mightily for more than 20 minutes.

I finished my housework by midnight. I am ready to leave any time. I opted not to dress in sleepwear and chose instead jogging pants and an old shirt. A hooded jacket was handy in case I need to go out quickly. I braved the rains and placed most of my stuff in the car. I set my alarm to scream every hour so I can check the river. I plan to sleep and I was hoping I can wait until the first light of morning to vacate the place.

By 2AM my alarm went off. Rain was still heavy and I checked the river. The horror. It has reached the alarming level (when the tall grasses on the side of the river disappears). I decided to leave before the roads become impassable. I called my other neighbour who owns a car and told him I’ll go. He said he’ll follow later. The rains were quite heavy but the drive to Bulacan was bearable. Since it was 2AM, there are few cars on the road so I was able to easily avoid the flooded sides of the street. I was at home past 3AM and was asleep before 5AM.

I woke up at 9:30 and started to tweet and check Facebook via mobile, unwary of the falling rains. I was mulling over finishing the paperback I was reading or doing a DVD marathon. I even watched AC360 on CNN.

By midday, the local news turned ugly. The images and footages streamed on TV news were abysmal and horrific, to say the least. Raging rivers of flood waters where main roads once were. Entire houses swept away by the current. People standing on the rooftops of their 2-storey houses and waving to be rescued. Parts of EDSA, usually safe during heavy rains, are flooded. Boats on EDSA getting the passengers from stranded buses. Vehicles on a standstill on the main highway, mostly abandoned, just a breath away from the flowing river of flood. In Marikina, floods have stacked vehicles on top of each other. People using rubber tires to rescue stranded people.










I texted my sister the updates on TV and advised her not to go home. She’ll be safer in her office than defying the nightmarish traffic and foul weather.

The floods spared no one; even the elite and famous living in posh villages are rendered vulnerable. In a way, tragedy has a way of equalizing us. When the floods do subside, muck and mud covered everything. This is something I have seen before on CNN. During the onslaught of the Christmas 2004 tsunami across Asia and the wrath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans.

But when tragedy hits this close to home, nothing can prepare you. The images hurt. You think about your friends in the affected areas. You think how it could have been you.



The rainfall on Saturday is said to be the worst since 1967. Thirty day’s worth of rain falling in the span of six hours. Not unlike a tsunami swell, the floodwaters rose too quickly. I don’t think people have time to salvage what worldly possessions they have. When you’re in the middle of this biblical calamity, nothing matters but Life. To live and make it through.

Watching the newsfeeds, it’s disarming to see smiling faces and people waving at the cameras. Or children swimming in the floods. This, amidst the background of a cruel disaster scene. This says so much about a country that has survived a lot of natural and political catastrophes.

I am writing this blog on Sunday morning. A weak sun is fighting with the rain clouds but the rains take over once in a while. Last night, Typhoon Ondoy passed nearby Pampanga and the wind and rains here were frightening.

I don’t know what happened to my room in Quezon City (to call it a condo would make it too fancy). I am preparing for the worst; the floodwaters might have submerged the second floor and washed over my things. I lost contact with my neighbour and the last text he sent said that the flood was already above human height.

I am thankful that I am writing this blog from a third-person perspective. The horrorscapes I painted are what I saw on TV news. I know this will pale in comparison to stories from friends who experienced first-hand the blunt of the storm. While I am apprehensive about my QC unit, I am just thankful that my family is safe and our main house in Bulacan is firm and far from the waterways. My relatives and most of my dear friends are safe. While the storm was blowing over, I was dry in bed; with food, water and electricity. Even if the stuff I have in my QC room will be ruined by the floodwater, my car is intact. I am thankful that at least I was not there and I am not one of the people standing wet on the rooftops.

In the end, the power of a storm is measured not by the gust of its wind or the volume of its rainfall. It’s the lives lost...the lives forever changed. The memories of yesterday and the hopes of tomorrow obliterated by the weight of water.

The aftermath maybe more challenging that the actual storm itself. The rebuilding more dire and painful.

In times like this, our countrymen need all the help they can get. I have posted below pertinent information about charities we can support. I encourage everyone to do their part. Just think how blessed you are that you are not one of those people needing help.

ABS-CBN Foundation / Sagip Kapamilya:
BDO Account Number: 56300200111
Hotline: 413-2667
US Toll Free Number: 1-800-5272820
In-Kind Donations accepted at 13 Examiner St., West Triangle Homes, Quezon City

Red Cross:
Hotlines:143 / 527-0000
You can donate to Red Cross via text:
For Globe subscribers, please text RED <5,25,50,100 or 300> to 2899
For Smart, please text RED <10,25,50, or 100> to 4483.

***

Update: The outpouring of messages and concern on the web is touching. Philippines, Typhoon Ondoy and Red Cross became trending topics. Even international stars like Paulo Coehlo, Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are asking for help on our behalf.

Let us do our part.

Pensieve #4: Memoirs of 9/11

Exactly eight years ago, we witnessed the most horrific and striking terror attack of our generation. I am a thousand miles away from New York then and now, but still the mere mention of the numbers 9/11 gives me the goosebumps from atrocious memories.



Eight years ago, I came home very late from work. Only my sister was awake and I was having a late dinner in front of the TV. Suddenly there was breaking news about the attacks on the World Trade Center. The first plane has hit the WTC. I was confused for a while; I thought it was a freak accident wherein an airplane crashed into our own World Trade Center (the one in Pasay). Then the second plane hit and I realized that it was the Twin Towers of the WTC in New York. Terror attacks.

I remember calling my sister to watch the shocking news. My dad then joined us, probably woken by our alarmed voices.

The images of the planes hitting WTC are ghastly and horrendous; like an ugly B-rate action movie gone awry. But the exact science and choreography behind the attack brings it closer to a Michael Bay film.

It felt like the advent of World War III. I can’t believe it was happening in the United States, supposedly one of the “safest” places in the world (well, I had the same sentiment during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina).

Days from September 11, 2001, mouths are still open in shock worldwide. I remember news that the devil’s face was seen amidst the smokes of the WTC. And news that this was one of Nostradamus’ predictions.



I remember this freaky circulated email asking you to type in MS Word the supposed flight number of one of the fallen airplanes (Q33 NY), then change the font size to 48 and font to wingdings. The numbers will turn to images of a plane hitting two towers and symbols of death and the star of David. This is, of course, a cross between a hoax and a coincidence (because the flight number is incorrect). But a pretty creative twist anyway.

I remember watching Michael Moore’s Oscar-winning documentary Fahrenheit 9/11. The most memorable scene was the one showing President Bush’s face, who was then reading to elementary students when told about the attacks. Yes, he resumed his reading. Mastercard moment! Priceless.

I remember people saying that the reason Mariah Carey’s Glitter CD flopped was because it was released days after September 11 and it showed the Twin Towers of the WTC in its back cover. An omen perhaps. I remember various pop artists re-recording Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On as a charity single for AIDS. But post-9/11, it became a pop battlecry against terrorism. Music does soothe.



September 11 became one of the darkest days in modern history and forever changed the global landscape in terms of the politics of terrorism. I lost count of how many people perished that day (I think it was over 3,000 people). And I refuse to understand the sick agenda being pushed by the suicide bombers. How can these people think that there is dignity in the killing of innocent lives?

I always believed in finding the beauty in the disaster. But it has been eight years and I still cannot see the sense in all this. No silver lining. No Hollywood ending. Except that somehow, America woke up from its Bush-induced slumber and embraced Obama’s offer of change.

September 11 is a grim reminder of how quickly life can change. I have never been to New York so I don’t have fond memories that are massacred by this absurd tragedy. But as human beings, tragedy is something that connects us all. Like a strand of reluctant DNA. Tragedy also has a lingering power; maybe as a way of reiterating the lessons we have to learn.

Sad to believe that in these modern times where barbarism and primitivism are ancient history, violence and terrorism are still possible options. Oh, sad human nature.

***

Because war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
Picket signs, picket lines
Don’t punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
What’s going on

The Opposite of Real-Life Fairy Tales

Truth is stranger than fiction. And in this case, LIFE has more drama than soap operas.



It’s 3AM and I woke up with a jolt. Someone is summoning damnation by shouting thunderous curses: “P.I. na buhay to...Argggh!!!” This will be followed by crashing sounds of something breaking. I thought it was a drama on AM radio. And then I realized the sounds were coming from our neighbour. By virtue of proximity of the sound, I concluded it is the neighbours at our back.

Mostly, it was the guy shouting followed by whimpery-in-anger sounds from the girl. The ruckus continued for about 20 minutes. And then total silence. Like it was only a bad dream.

By then, I was already pumped with adrenaline from the wake-up jolt and paranoia (what if they started burning their house) that I cannot go back to sleep. So I just decided to do some work. My Mom said that such fighting scenes from our backdoor neighbours were not uncommon. I’m just lucky that I’m not there often to hear their domestic squabbles.

Come nightfall, I rushed home in hopes of catching Tayong Dalawa (Yes, I’m not ashamed to say I watch this). I just parked and was about to close the gate when I saw my neighbour lingering outside. I said a quick hello but she started some chitchat. I don’t remember what we were talking about; but from out of nowhere, she burst forth with a personal crisis. Oh no.

Let’s hide her under the name Happy (Ligaya, in vernacular. For the sake of irony). Happy found out that her husband has been having a 3-year-old affair. They have been married for 30+ years and their youngest (of three) son just finished college. She discovered the illicit affair when he called her husband during a supposed “overtime” at work. Now, her children are angry with their dad and their house has become unbearable from all the underlying tension.

The plot does thicken. The other woman is the wife of a policeman. Happy has confronted the other woman and even threatened to have her privates ripped or have her killed by her very angry sons. Happy’s husband is already repentant but Happy said her trust has been permanently broken. After 30 years.

Happy even goes on to describe some details of their sex life. I wanted to scream “Stop, T.M.I.!” But I remained unruffled especially at the sight of her tears. Thankfully, she soon apologized for bothering me with her dilemma. After some kind words of wisdom that I could muster (from a singleton who has no idea about marital bliss, or lack therof), I said goodbye.

Upon entering my room, I quickly checked if I have balding head and a moustache. And if Oprah is on my speed dial. But no, I don’t look anywhere near Dr. Phil.



Who needs a soap opera when your next door neighbours are living the sudsy life? I wonder who plays Audrey. I want to meet her. And introduce myself as JR.



P.S. I don’t mean to trivialize these people’s predicament. Notice that I don’t even slam the institution called Marriage (one of my favorite debates). Truth to tell, I feel truly blessed for NOT having these problems. I think they call it single blessedness. Cheers!

An Outburst Of Yellow

I never knew the day will come when watching the news and reading the newspaper will be painful. And I never knew that I was capable of grieving for someone whose only direct connection to me is that we share the same Motherland. We are both Filipinos.

Like yellow confetti falling happily from the skies, grandiose verses and superlatives have rained on this irreplaceable woman and icon; probably the finest Filipina to ever walk this earth. I have said my piece in a salutatory blog I posted barely three hours from the announcement of her death last August 1. While I want to write more accolades in a bid to immortalize her greatness, I have conceded that whatever I write will not even come close to the poignant eulogies and moving speeches of those who have personally known and felt Cory’s magic. That and the fact that no words can do justice and describe her impact to us; as individuals and as a nation.

I am just an ordinary Filipino grappling to survive the harsh realities in this land of a thousand contradictions. And for the past days, I have walked with sadness draped over my shoulders and a lump in my throat that returns with each constant reminder. The yellow ribbon that decorates the corner of the TV every time I watch the ABS-CBN channels. The endless pictures of people enduring everything just to express their respect and admiration. The tender stories from her children that can make a rock burst into tears. Her funeral cortege (juxtaposed with that of her celebrated husband’s) that is both eerie and serene. Of history repeating itself and coming full circle to remind us of the events 26 years ago.

Frozen images of a nation again united by pristine grief and sombre celebration.

Seeing the videos from the 1980’s made me take stock of my being Filipino. I’ll admit that my patriotism is highly questionable. Cynicism and scepticism are the only passions that flow in my blood. But in being reminded of Ninoy, EDSA and Cory’s glory days, a fervent glow in my heart is once again ignited. Sadly it took Cory’s death and her legacy for me to realize kay sarap palang maging Filipino (it feels good to be a Filipino).



In mourning for Cory, we are grieving for ourselves more than we care to admit. She represents a dream, a rarity. The most excruciating part is that she is someone we might never again see in this lifetime. For a country that has made a lot of “wrongs,” it is heart-rending to realize that we once made a “right” and now have lost it.

But we need not lose it. It’s up to us to make her memory and legacy live on.

I never cared for politics, or history for that matter. I quit my previous job (eight years ago) because I got tired of writing and researching history textbooks. Current events bore me and I skip the front pages of the newspaper and dive into the Lifestyle and Entertainment sections. As a graduate of the state university known for its ideology and nationalistic dogma, I was a sterling and disgraceful example of apathy and nonchalance.

But from here on, the sight of yellow will be my call to heed and take action. Even in my own little way. The events of the last few days gave new meaning to the word “citizen.”

I hope the outburst of yellow will again be seen in the coming elections. To remind us all of our responsibility and what we can collectively do as a nation. The outpouring of support for Cory is proof enough of what we can do should we put our hearts into it. THE FILIPINOS ARE GOOD AND WE CAN STILL DO GOOD. History is our kind witness and teacher; change is our potent weapon. As a nation, we can rise from the shadows of our mistakes and triumph over adversary and challenges. Our innate goodness can prevail over the permutations of evil. Even in death, Cory showed us the way and it is up to us to follow it.

Goodbye, Cory and thank you. May your yellow forever shine upon this nation and inspire an outbreak of greatness and pride in the years to come.



***

Originally posted at www.barnieboi.blogspot.com.

My Cory Tribute: The Political Saint Who Made Us See Yellow

August started on a sad note. Still half-asleep, I was fixing my bed when I got a text from my cousin: What happened to Cory? Is she dead? I hastily turned the TV on and I knew it before I saw the actual headline. Because Channel 2 is on a special news programming. And they only do that when something historic has happened.

And history it is. On the dawn of the first of August, the lights went out on the remaining beacon of Philippine democracy.



To us, she was the first female president and the mother of democracy. To the world she was the Woman Of The Year in the 80’s (a distinction that propelled her to the ranks of Queen Elizabeth) and an icon of democracy who inspired numerous non-violent demonstrations, even in repressed Europe, the bastion of autocracy.



She made us see yellow in a different way. For a country whose political climate is forever bleak and despondent, yellow means hope.

We know her life story because it became our country’s history. And it reads like a Cinderella fairy tale. A plain and quiet housewife who was thrust into the seat of the nation’s power. And tried her darn best to do a good job while at it.

I was just a kid during the Edsa revolution but even then, I have already felt the huge Aquino impact. I don’t know if I have seen her in person. I think I have, but I can’t remember exactly when and where.

In an unforgiving world where we are just as good as our last triumph, Cory was proof that goodness can prevail over the permutations of evil. We don’t remember the scandals that marred her 6-year reign; nor her misguided ambitions. She is best remembered for her honourable intentions (despite her limitations) to make this country better. How she married State and Church to make a potent synergy; which at the very least saved us and pulled us through those trying times.

Of course, the aura of humility, calmness and sanctity that never left her until the very end. She was saintly in her demeanour and I only saw this in one other person. Pope John Paul II.

The current administration has a lot to learn from her. For I cannot remember anything good or earnest from Cory’s contemporary (except her funny mole). Cory also leaves a legacy that the current president can only dream of.

If there is one thing I admired about Cory, it is her faith. And this is a huge compliment coming from me, an unwavering cynic of Catholic faith and its hypocrisy. Cory’s faith is rooted in sincerity and altruism. The way spiritual faith SHOULD be.



In the next hundred years, her smiling glass-rimmed face and the yellow ribbon will remain powerful symbols of hope and democracy. Not unlike her celebrated husband. They will be revered as modern-day heroes and deservingly so.

This country is always one breath away from political unrest. Cory, our political saint is gone. She will not be there to march or pray with us. As a nation, we have to learn from her legacy and the bitter lessons of our history.

This blog serves as my yellow ribbon.



***

Hours after the official announcement, the international news networks were already tolling their bells to the tone of Cory’s demise:







***

Original post on www.barnieboi.blogspot.com.