Untitled [10]

<That is the tragedy of language, my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.> 

<That is the source of their misery.> 

<And some of their strength, I think.>  

—  Orson Scott Card, Xenocide

Birthday Song

I am not your concern 
The world will still turn
When I'm not around
Rely on me and you'll fall
Backs up to the wall
Someone let me out 

 – The Hush Sound, Not Your Concern

So much for resilience

"These things happen. We survive, and deal with the damage, with the help of the international community. Along the way, there will be chaos, and infuriating reports of corruption and ineptitude; there will be storms of blame, but we get up and collect ourselves." 

 – Jessica Zafra, When Haiyan Struck

Sometimes I wish the Filipinos aren't so relient. Sometimes I wish the Filipinos don't believe too much that we are resilient. Sometimes I wish we don't adapt to external factors so well. Sometimes I wish we aren't likened to bamboo so strongly that we live up to it unconsciously. Sometimes I wish we don't bow down so easily to powers that be. Sometimes I wish we don't feel so victimized when we become so helpless. Sometimes I wish we stop putting up with the terrible things that befall us. Sometimes I wish we'd just snap and say, "That's it. We've had enough." 

Because how fares the populace that sways as the breeze dictates? Can't we  be represented by a metaphor of a stronger tree that stands firm come winds and hail? 

I've read an opinion piece some weeks ago about how this nation venerates the heroes who died in the hands of the enemies, instead of heroes who fought and defeated the enemies. Why are we so keen on becoming martyrs? Why do we place others so high above us?

I know it's the ultimate sacrifice, to die for the motherland. ("...Ang mamatay ng dahil sa'yo.") But can't we live first? Can't we fight and put the oppressors in their right place? Remain standing, instead of bowing all the time? Can't we go, bitch, please?

It was this bitch, please mode that got me applauding Senator Santiago's questioning of the alleged Pork Barrel Scam mastermind during the Senate probe a week ago. She's like, "Stop making us look so bloody stupid. We're smarter than you're making us out to be. Frickin stop treating us like idiots and give us the truth." It was my frustration, everybody's frustration, that the Senator put into words, into un-patronizing questions, into the grilling.

I wish I could live to see the day when it's the abusers that will tremble at the prospect of doing something wrong to this nation. 

But, right now, even my eight year-old brother is already fed up. "Gusto ko na lang maging dayuhan," in that strange "malalim na Tagalog" of his.

Lo the rant of the baffled and frustrated apathetic patriot with a misplaced sense of nationalism. 

I miss 2011

Recently I've been thinking about how I miss 2011, heightened the past two weeks with the frequent dinners at Maginhawa St. with friends with whom I spent most of my 2011. 

I miss how I managed to juggle a lot of things that year—org life, thesis, acads that are not thesis, thesis, my part-time job, thesis, internship, extra-curricular activities, family life, thesis, different circles of friends. 

As much as I grumbled how sleep-deprived I was during that time, I do miss the feeling of being so busy that I have to sleep sitting just so I wouldn't end up napping for too long. I miss the sense of purpose, of the excitement in being able accomplish one thing before charging head-on towards another task. I miss being with different groups of people almost everyday. I miss how I observe the friendships I have evolve through the variety of experiences we were able to share.

I miss the walks at midnight in almost-deserted streets with fellow nocturnals. I miss the they're-so-frequent-that-they-became-not-so spontaneous dinners and night-outs. I miss the variety of the things I was learning during the time—the readings, the exams, the papers, the wisdom of my professors. I miss the hint of the emotional roller coaster that almost  never was. 

Better make the coming year as jam-packed as 2011, then. \o/

don't you know that's okay?

You are broken and callow
Cautious and safe
You are boundless and beauty
With fright in your face
Until someone loves you,
I'll keep you safe
But like them, I will give you away 

And when you're gone, will they say your name?
And when you're gone, will they love you the same?
If not, that's okay. 

—  The Hush Sound, That's Okay

the terrifying rarity of truth

As adults will grow and maturity shows
The terrifying rarity of truth,
As you turn to your mind
And your thoughts they rewind,
To old happenings and things that are done 

— Bastille, Haunt

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Dan Smith, how do you words?