a political disenchantment

I voted for Trillanes with this hope that he will be among those new breed of public servants who will really bring about change, sans the pa-pogi, sans the rhetoric in the vernacular which doesn’t make sense anyway, sans the press release, but just pure work. Action that could rival that of whatever he had as a soldier, all it takes to rebuild and reform this nation. 

But months after he was sworn into office I am already regretting my decision. I have come to finally realize, and accept, with much deliberation on my part, that I have wasted my precious vote. I think I have elected not just a convicted mutineer, but a mental institution fugitive, as a senator. Holy macaroni! 

At first I ignored it. It could have been the lack of sleep, the exhaustion and stress of being a jailed senator that causes him to look haggard and worn out each time he faces the camera. Not that I expect public officials to look like they just stepped out of the spa each time, but to look like a coke (and I’m not talking about the soda) addict every freaking time? Come on. It might not have to come first but as someone entrusted by the public to look after their welfare, public officials should at least embody strength and that aura of being in control. That proverbial grace under pressure.  

It is frightening to realize that somebody you entrusted the nations’ future to, might be a crazed lunatic.  

It could just be me; I might be the one’s who’s crazy. But I have asked around – experts in the field of psychology and psychiatry, and being a psych major myself, that he does look disturbed. His words even manifest restlessness. Friends who work in the senate have told me how he’s slowly catching the ire of most senators because of his declarations. Apparently, he wanted to be in the Senate not to be of service to the nation, but to impeach the president. Sure, getting GMA out of office can do us a great favor, but that as your sole motivation? Fuck. 

It’s just absurd. And seeing him, his eyes that can’t seem to be still, frighteningly piercing, can send kids to huge therapy bills. If I was 5 and I see those eyes of his on TV, I’d most likely have nightmares for a week.  

And his words, they’re not born out of the passion to save us from further Gloria hell, but from intense anger, which isn’t just right. Because it is already controlling him, and making him look crazier than he already is, maybe even before Oakwood. Anyway, endangering the lives of people to make a statement isn’t exactly am infestation of sane normality. Ah, I shall never see the idealism in anyone who becomes too desperate to get a message across by threatening to kill or destroy. 

Too bad I was blinded by that one Oakwood instance, that it even prompted me to help one of them get to the Senate. How I regret it now, and wish I could appeal to any court of law that I would like to take back my vote, please.  

This is not to malign his reputation, but maybe to express my deep condolences, addressed to myself, for the sudden, senseless death of trust and confidence, on someone who is simply not worthy. 

I know for a fact that psychosis can be cured though. Please somebody tell him to seek psychiatric help. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

On a lighter note, god, what have become of our supposed discernment and wisdom> why do we still have these clowns occupying public offices? Some are too hungry for publicity they’d react violently to Desperate Housewives fiasco. One made an ass of himself by stupidly (and definitely so not eloquently, as in far from being remotely smart even) by making this statement regarding his mom being the subject of a satire. A satire! Geez, can’t he look that up in the dictionary? 

So, these publicity hungry public officers and having themselves interviewed left and right to say their peace, it doesn’t matter if they make sense (which they rarely does) or not – they’d spew all these irrelevant statements, over the top bordering on OA declarations, supposedly mild mannered speeches in the vernacular which are just pure rhetoric and no substance, just to see their faces on TV. For exposure, just that. Because guess what, they’re not doing anything but waiting all day to be presented with an opportunity to ham it up for the cameras. 

Whoever said that we have a 24-hour comedy show for a government is definitely on the right track. And you say politics is not for showbiz people? Rooiigggghttt.  

what kind of friend am i?

I once read this article about friendship where the author quoted Queen Victoria as she talks about two of her friends. I cannot find the exact quote or the names of the queens’ two friends. All I know is that they’re both statesmen. Anyway, she said when asked about Friend No. 1 she said “when I am with him he makes me feel like I am with one of the greatest leaders in the world” while on Friend No. 2 she has this to say: “when I am with this friend, he makes me feel like I am one of the greatest leaders in the world.” 

That stuck to me like superglue. For days now I would ask friends how I make them feel. I would implore for them to be brutally honest and just tell me. Because I am aware that at times I can be one egotistical bitch, or at least I come across as one. I know I am not exactly one who uses friends to fan my ego,  but I guess to sort of protect myself I do unconsciously make people feel somewhat inferior. Like, hey lucky you I’m your friend or something like that. 

I think. 

I did ask people that. Most gave me this certain look that seems to tell me “are you in trouble with the law, biatch?” Tee hee. Seriously, I needed to know. The last thing I want realize is that I hurt anybody just because I wasn’t the kind of friend he/she needed me to be. Not that I would change for anyone. But I want to make sure I treat them right. Most were honest enough to tell me things… most were kind of surprising. Yet true. It was unbelievable though that there isn’t anybody who told me I made them feel like Queen Victoria’s Friend No. 1 made her feel. I really thought my ego was bigger than Kris Aquino’s.  

What most pointed out though is that sometimes I seem to hold back. That there were things they know I wanted to say, things I wanted to do, for them, which I didn’t simply because I feel so conscious of what they will think. This makes them feel like I don’t trust them.  So I had to explain that I simply don’t want to make any friend feel that I depend too much on them, that I’m too clingy or something. I myself am scared of having anyone rely too much on me. Because that means a lot of expectations which I have to live up to. 

It’s also partly because I have been somewhat traumatized by supposed friends who misinterpreted my actions. I was used to being that kind of friend who would be all sweet and nice, who would give letters and stuff, who would give and receive good luck or thank you gifts. I think this began in college, where my friends and I would give each other letters or chocolates and trinkets just to cheer each other up. We’d treat each other and buy each other stuff with notes that says “I saw this and I thought you’d like it” “I think this will look good on you” or “this simply reminds me of you”. It’s like a compulsion. Or maybe we just simply love and trust and adore each other too much we’re not ashamed to show it. But I guess not everyone is comfortable with that. I have given people flowers, chocolates, letters and what I got was this weird look and rumors spreading around questioning my motives. Followed by eventually losing that supposed friend. It was just horrible.  

I am being careful now. It’s crazy sometimes. How I hold back, strange because I used to be this girl who goes all out when it comes to her friends. It was never a struggle for me to say “I love you”. Now I just can’t bring myself to tell a friend that. Somehow I feel like saying those would drive them away. Geez, I can’t believe I just let myself type out these thoughts. Now I feel too darn vulnerable. Haha. But in a way it’s an open letter, maybe even some sort of an apology for anyone who’s been in my life for the past years now.

Girls, dudes, badings – I haven’t been the kind of freidn you guys deserve. So I was there with you on lunch, coffee or dinner talking about your “latest”, so I stayed with you till the wee hours of the morning while we discussed how we’ll save the cheerleader and the world, so we battled our insomnia by texting each other and discussing our grand plans in reforming the nation, so I wrote you long letters or sent you long SMS’s telling you how great you are and you shouldn’t give up on anything no matter what, so I sat on the kitchen counter while you whipped up this new recipe you learned from Chef Rob – maybe actions speak louder than words. But I still need to get this out: 

I made sure I was there, because you’re my friend and I think you’re worth it and, I love you  

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.
 - C. S. Lewis

Be Safe, PacSafe

I recently saw this TV feature on anti-theft bags, made with Pacsafe technology or something. These bags are made with wires embedded on the sides which make it hard for anyone to slash it and have access to anything that is inside. It also has locks on its zippers which will make it even harder for anyone to steal your goods. As the owner you are the one who gets to set the unique combination for the locks. Really ingenious. A great invention especially for dwellers of cities notorious for thugs, snatchers, thieves.  

 

I watched in amazement as the bag’s anti-theft features are being demonstrated. I thought, I got to have one of those! See, I have had over ten bags slashed. And most of them are signature ones given to me as gifts. It’s just frustrating to see your favorite Esprit, UCB, Coach or NW with its side ruined with an ugly uneven slash. And your wallet, cosmetic pouch or cell phone missing too! It often takes a week for me to recover. Yes, I am that dumb. Or maybe I just underestimated these thugs. They’re in even the supposedly safe places, like an upscale café in an upscale mall. They even wear barong, or look like our pastor. They wear makeup and are well-coifed. They speak English fluently. They look safe enough that the take advantage of this impression and steal your stuff. And slash your precious bags. 

But, will getting any of these Pacsafe bags guarantee that I will be safe from these pathetic lowlifes? So wires are embedded into these bags, but still if someone attempts to slash it will still leave an ugly cut. What if the moron points a gun at you, will your bag morph into some ass-kicking thug killer faster than you can say “time space warp now na!”? Those bags sure look sturdy. But as that TV feature said, if these supposedly anti-theft features fails and the moron still tries to have his way, with a sharp knife or gun, just give up and let him have your stuff. Oh, dear. 

Pacsafe sounds way cool but until they make something that can double as a self-defense weapon, I think I’ll just save up for a sturdy metallic briefcase for now. At least you can heat someone in the head with that one.

Another Case of Ignorance, and Lack of Responsibility

Racism is alive and prevalent even in this day and age, when almost every country is littered with immigrants and foreign workers. With this kind of exposure to different races one would think that people would be more aware, smart and respectful enough not to do or say anything that will be deemed discriminatory. Still, it is sad to realize that people are still insensitive and irresponsible, that they would allow racist remarks to surface and reach the public, therefore maligning the reputation of a certain ethnic group and even an entire nation, with something that is unfounded.  The following video is a clip from the September 30 episode of Desperate Housewives, watch and listen:  

  

If you, as a Filipino got offended by that racist slur, then go to the following link and sign the petition. It will only think a few minutes. 

http://www.petitiononline.com/FilABC/petition.html 

But if you’re Filipino and you choose to just shrug it off… shame on you buddy.

SN’s Heartbreak Therapy 101

I never consider myself to be any good at giving advice, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Especially to the heartbroken. Or to someone who is about to get him or her lelf into something that’s sure to give them head ache and a broken heart eventually. I am an optimist-realist. I am all about what looks and feels right. And playing safe. In some ways I am not such an advocate of selfless love. I have always believed that only God can love, and whom we can love unselfishly. Maybe parental love comes close. But romantic love? Naaah, I’ve seen a witness too way too many supposed love stories that end in misery, or tragedy. Not to say that getting oneself involved in such isn’t worth it though. But I guess, having those beliefs, and being a constant witness to the realities of love, is enough to make me one love advice dispenser from hell. (at least in the point of view of hopeless romantics) 

Recently friends would send me SMS that makes the most out of their character limit (i.e. novels!) giving me detailed accounts of how miserable they feel because someone just broke their poor heart into pieces. I am always at a loss for words… I sure want to say things that will make them feel better. But I learned my lesson before, that the first step to helping someone whose nursing a broken heart is to let them know that you empathize, and you understand what they’re going through, at the same time giving them even just a little hint that hey, life goes on.  

I sent this one to a friend who’s greatly disappointed by someone she thought was the one. 

Grey area – the state of uncertainty, of unrest because of being caught between choices you’re not even sure you want to see your self get into. 

Silver lining – what should give you the assurance and hope that it’s okay to jump into either of these choices; what’s supposed to drive you into even making the decision. It’s “the” bright side. 

Black hole – is where you’ll find yourself after realizing that none of your choices are worthy. And whichever side you turn you’ll just find endless darkness staring at you, mocking you, as you roll around trying to rid yourself of the pain.  

It’s just another fucking heartbreak. 

And for the classic unrequited love: 

Without us knowing or even admitting it, we are held captive by memories that in ways shopwed us hope and possibilities that “something” is there. So when reality hits us straight in the gut, it’s a fierce struggle to get out of the trap. It’s unnerving, it’s exhausting.  

You wonder if it’s all worth it. 

Majorly cheesy right? Truly cringe-worthy. But for some weird reasons they actually help. Sometimes a bruised heart just needs to know that in some ways one is at fault why one is going through all these pain. And at the same time, they have to be bandaged with this huge assurance that it doesn’t matter how painful everything is now, because eventually, everything will be okay. 

And I can’t believe I just wrote that. All 533 words of it. Yikes.