Liberals of the world must have rejoice and I would like to join in the cheers!
The American people have elected a Democratic leader this time. To top it all, it had nonetheless pick one as African American as Barack Obama can be, and we'll that's a first for America.
Again the United States have speak up and once again shouted to the world that it is indeed the land of equal opportunities. Electing to the Oval office a once member of the American minority is indeed a great way of showing what the founding fathers of America has immortalized.
I have once been a follower of the American Democratic Party rhetorics and would say I like what I read then. Since leaving Innodata I&A, I had lost touch of my favorite topic to work then--American politics. I don't know much, but I hope all the good things I've read before regarding the policies embraced by the Democrats will hold true for Obama.
As in any one who went out to the world to prove a point, Obama is faced with more than what other White presidents before him have faced right now. Be it as it may, but I am positive that like others who came before him, he too can and will conquer the challenges that was set for him--and like the electoral process come out of it victorious.
Cheers for America. Cheers for equality. Cheers for the world.
GoldenSeeker
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Political Consciousness
Politics, the boon and bane of human civilization, have enticed me at quite an early age. Born during the last years of the Marcos Era, some seven to eight years or so of its reign, I have had some vague understanding but very strong impressions of how politics motivate people to do almost anything. At some point during those turbulent years leading to the February 1986 presidential elections and the EDSA Revolutions that followed a couple of weeks after, I always remember my father talking about how Marcos had hugely cheated Sergio Osmeña during the 1969 elections. The tale was that a lot of official ballots have been dumped by Marcos’ choppers into the ocean in order to have a clean sweep in the elections. Of course, Marcos was re-elected then and a huge majority of his allies sat with him in both the Senate and in Congress. I know this now, but not before.
Before, all I heard was my father’s tale and all I can think about was that Marcos was bad. I don’t know what’s in it to being a president then but in a child’s mind, nothing, and I mean really nothing was worth cheating for. That image of Marcos was heavily re-enforced when during the 1986 elections, I have seen and touched the crisp, 5 and 20 peso bills that’s being stapled together as a bribe to vote for the great man—Ferdinand Marcos. Thus, I have had my first real life, front seat view of vote buying. My father’s tale had since then become as real for me as the food we ate from that bribe. My parents never voted for Marcos that election. Even if it prove to be an exercise in futility since Marcos still managed to declare himself the victor for a couple of weeks until the power of the oppressed had ousted him from office. What about the money? Well, that was what might have been meant when someone biblical said “be cunning as a snake, but harmless as a dove.” Being practical enough to benefit from the bribe but harmless enough to have refused to vote for the briber. Again, of course I wouldn’t know this then, the rhetoric was coming to me a lot later.
For some time, as I go on with my life trying to be a child, an adolescent and a teenager, politics and the exercise of it (except during every classroom elections of officers) had taken a back seat. I had, however, could not totally removed myself from such issues as injustice, salvaging, poverty, rebellion, and other politically involved problems on the radio and in television.
I had grown up with these themes that I can honestly say that I am practically raised and my values molded by media. Fortunately, because early in life I am conscious enough that there are some things I just can’t take; I have been rather selective of the radio and television programs that I’ve watched. I have had with me a personal sense of censorship over the things that I’ve I wanted to see.
I am growing up with a lot of the idealism of youth, an idealism that I zealously guarded even as I become an adult—a feat made more difficult by the rise of overly and materially practical views of our time. Adulthood and idealism, somehow, do not mix in this “practical” society I am currently living.
At some point in my life when oppression and rebellion are the common themes in radio drama and movies, I had made a promise never to join in the armed rebels group regardless of how much I would come to hate the political system. The promise I made is to try to join in the system and work from the inside to see the change I would like to see or die trying. Armed rebellion is just not my thing.
I don’t like most of our politicians; yes. Our government system sucks; we’ll for the most part. It is hopeless to elect young idealist since eventually they will be corrupted and to succumb to the dirty tricks of the very system that they are trying to change originally at first; yeah this happens a lot of times. But all these, did not stop me from honestly voting for the candidate that I think would help establish some of the things I would like to see in this country. Personally, if you don’t exercise your right and obligation to vote honestly to the best of your God-endowed intelligence you have no and I mean absolutely no right to open your mouth to criticize those who are elected. Why should you!
As I mentioned earlier we have become a materially practical society that everything already have a price tags. And votes become a seasonal favorite like candles during All Saints Day. Today, all forms of vote buying abound. We’ll why not, politicians have a lot of money to give and we voters—mostly have nothing to eat. Sad to say, it’s just not those who are hungry that accepts this bribe at. Nowadays, everybody, except maybe for a very few, accepts politicians bribe money like it’s a welcome Christmas bonus. But like my parents; they said they are not voting for those candidates who paid them. Then whose votes were it then that we so painstakingly counted up to the wee hours after the Election Day, huh! When it seems that 99.9% of election candidates pay one way or another to get votes and voters claim to just accept the money without voting for those who paid them, it’s a wonder we still have candidates being elected with more than a hundred votes. Be cunning as a snake and harmless as a dove… the problem with this is that cunning tends to snake back and bite you where it hurt most. Taking a bribe slowly eats you inside. That part that takes care of the balance between what you believe is good and what is bad. When taking that vote-buying money starts to seem normal and clever to you, then I believe its time you take a long hard look at yourself and find that innocent little being that’s hiding inside you for fear of not fitting in to the rest of the crowd.
Before, all I heard was my father’s tale and all I can think about was that Marcos was bad. I don’t know what’s in it to being a president then but in a child’s mind, nothing, and I mean really nothing was worth cheating for. That image of Marcos was heavily re-enforced when during the 1986 elections, I have seen and touched the crisp, 5 and 20 peso bills that’s being stapled together as a bribe to vote for the great man—Ferdinand Marcos. Thus, I have had my first real life, front seat view of vote buying. My father’s tale had since then become as real for me as the food we ate from that bribe. My parents never voted for Marcos that election. Even if it prove to be an exercise in futility since Marcos still managed to declare himself the victor for a couple of weeks until the power of the oppressed had ousted him from office. What about the money? Well, that was what might have been meant when someone biblical said “be cunning as a snake, but harmless as a dove.” Being practical enough to benefit from the bribe but harmless enough to have refused to vote for the briber. Again, of course I wouldn’t know this then, the rhetoric was coming to me a lot later.
For some time, as I go on with my life trying to be a child, an adolescent and a teenager, politics and the exercise of it (except during every classroom elections of officers) had taken a back seat. I had, however, could not totally removed myself from such issues as injustice, salvaging, poverty, rebellion, and other politically involved problems on the radio and in television.
I had grown up with these themes that I can honestly say that I am practically raised and my values molded by media. Fortunately, because early in life I am conscious enough that there are some things I just can’t take; I have been rather selective of the radio and television programs that I’ve watched. I have had with me a personal sense of censorship over the things that I’ve I wanted to see.
I am growing up with a lot of the idealism of youth, an idealism that I zealously guarded even as I become an adult—a feat made more difficult by the rise of overly and materially practical views of our time. Adulthood and idealism, somehow, do not mix in this “practical” society I am currently living.
At some point in my life when oppression and rebellion are the common themes in radio drama and movies, I had made a promise never to join in the armed rebels group regardless of how much I would come to hate the political system. The promise I made is to try to join in the system and work from the inside to see the change I would like to see or die trying. Armed rebellion is just not my thing.
I don’t like most of our politicians; yes. Our government system sucks; we’ll for the most part. It is hopeless to elect young idealist since eventually they will be corrupted and to succumb to the dirty tricks of the very system that they are trying to change originally at first; yeah this happens a lot of times. But all these, did not stop me from honestly voting for the candidate that I think would help establish some of the things I would like to see in this country. Personally, if you don’t exercise your right and obligation to vote honestly to the best of your God-endowed intelligence you have no and I mean absolutely no right to open your mouth to criticize those who are elected. Why should you!
As I mentioned earlier we have become a materially practical society that everything already have a price tags. And votes become a seasonal favorite like candles during All Saints Day. Today, all forms of vote buying abound. We’ll why not, politicians have a lot of money to give and we voters—mostly have nothing to eat. Sad to say, it’s just not those who are hungry that accepts this bribe at. Nowadays, everybody, except maybe for a very few, accepts politicians bribe money like it’s a welcome Christmas bonus. But like my parents; they said they are not voting for those candidates who paid them. Then whose votes were it then that we so painstakingly counted up to the wee hours after the Election Day, huh! When it seems that 99.9% of election candidates pay one way or another to get votes and voters claim to just accept the money without voting for those who paid them, it’s a wonder we still have candidates being elected with more than a hundred votes. Be cunning as a snake and harmless as a dove… the problem with this is that cunning tends to snake back and bite you where it hurt most. Taking a bribe slowly eats you inside. That part that takes care of the balance between what you believe is good and what is bad. When taking that vote-buying money starts to seem normal and clever to you, then I believe its time you take a long hard look at yourself and find that innocent little being that’s hiding inside you for fear of not fitting in to the rest of the crowd.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
What?
What?
What is a word. One word that gives a lot of meaning.
Meaning?
What is meaning?
Meaning is another word.
Then what is the meaning of the word?
What is a word. One word that gives a lot of meaning.
Meaning?
What is meaning?
Meaning is another word.
Then what is the meaning of the word?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The Choice of Death--the Princess of the Stars Tragedy
Even before my poll on this topic come to a close... allow me to share with you my thoughts.
As it is with all grand scale tragedies, pointing a blaming finger is always the norm and the Frank disaster and the "Sulpicio fiasco," as some people would really like to say, is no different.
Since the news on the sinking of the ship, people are starting to find someone to blame for the tragedy. Obviously, Sulpicio is at the top of the guilty list. Most people, especially those in close proximity with the victims, either by blood relation or just a friend of a friend of a friend are inclined to blame Sulpicio. Sulpicio on the other hand and those who knows somebody in Sulpicio who are convinced or tried to convince themselves of the seaworthiness of the ship is predispose to find others to put the blame on--like the Coast Guard or PAG-ASA. Round and round the blame winds out people and entities until the most guilty coughs out and accepts their guilt.
Also as it is with any tragedy with lots of death involved, the blame is heaped on the weary shoulder of the survivors and those who came out of it with just a little scratch. We've seen it on television, people derisively telling crew survivors that they are only trying to save themselves.
We'll, if you're the sister, mother or a friend of a victim you rightfully feel the need to say those things out of the overwhelming grief of the moment. But then no one should really blame anyone for surviving. Being there and enduring it while seeing all those flesh and blood cry out is a burden heavy enough to bear for a lifetime, adding guilt on it is really too much.
A lot of people may blame Sulpicio for the tragedy and these people have equally sound arguments to support their opinion; arguments though does not make a case. Facts alone would clear the conscience of all those involved in the tragedy. However, my intention here is not to convict or exonerate those responsible.
As it is with all grand scale tragedies, pointing a blaming finger is always the norm and the Frank disaster and the "Sulpicio fiasco," as some people would really like to say, is no different.
Since the news on the sinking of the ship, people are starting to find someone to blame for the tragedy. Obviously, Sulpicio is at the top of the guilty list. Most people, especially those in close proximity with the victims, either by blood relation or just a friend of a friend of a friend are inclined to blame Sulpicio. Sulpicio on the other hand and those who knows somebody in Sulpicio who are convinced or tried to convince themselves of the seaworthiness of the ship is predispose to find others to put the blame on--like the Coast Guard or PAG-ASA. Round and round the blame winds out people and entities until the most guilty coughs out and accepts their guilt.
Also as it is with any tragedy with lots of death involved, the blame is heaped on the weary shoulder of the survivors and those who came out of it with just a little scratch. We've seen it on television, people derisively telling crew survivors that they are only trying to save themselves.
We'll, if you're the sister, mother or a friend of a victim you rightfully feel the need to say those things out of the overwhelming grief of the moment. But then no one should really blame anyone for surviving. Being there and enduring it while seeing all those flesh and blood cry out is a burden heavy enough to bear for a lifetime, adding guilt on it is really too much.
A lot of people may blame Sulpicio for the tragedy and these people have equally sound arguments to support their opinion; arguments though does not make a case. Facts alone would clear the conscience of all those involved in the tragedy. However, my intention here is not to convict or exonerate those responsible.
What I want is to somehow discuss the death of those passengers and all others who died during the typhoon. For many people, these deaths are the cause of anger towards Sulpicio, PAG-ASA, Coast Guard etc.. To their minds I guess, is the belief that these people should not have died without that tragedy; and the cause is... whatever mistakes that according to them was perpetrated by those in the guilty list.
We'll whatever their reason, as somebody I recently know would often say... "but that's to their own according." And so now, here's death "to my own according."
I have always believe that death is something that would come, regardless and no matter, when its time. The moment you die is the moment you choose to leave this lifetime. Life is a choice... death too is.
The death of someone, regardless of the manner, is with that person's full consent. You can never blame death on anyone. The manner of death, maybe but as to the moment of death, no. It is something that the individual unconciously decided on his/her own.
The freedom afforded to us to take control of our life is absolute and so as with determining our lifetimes.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
For the Love of That Someone Called Me
Growing up poor and ugly and still come out of it having a healthy regard for oneself is no mean feat.
I never was and would never be a beauty, except maybe in the eyes of my father (bless his soul) who was forever be blinded by his fatherly and unconditional love.
I could still remember during those elementary years when some classmates would talk about me unpleasantly because of my looks and the tattered uniform I wore. Being poor, my parents cannot afford to buy me new uniform and so I wore my older sister's school uniform to school which had been so old that it already had patches to it.
Adding to the clothes is my own looks. I was so skinny then, and my color is that unhealthy pallor of sun dried brown due to the constant sun exposure when we play and gather stones for a fee for building concrete houses.
I was however blessed with a good head that my classmates would not really ridicule me openly for fear of not being able to copy my answer to examinations.
Hahaha... even that early I know there is justice in the world.
Anyway, as I have said I have a good head and a good head sometimes makes you more aware than you like of what's going on and what has been talked about behind your back. Needless to say, I know what they were talking about me and that had made me really insecure with my looks.
I can still remember one day during my third grade when I was looking at my arm and tried to stretch it while thinking that maybe if I became fat I would be a lot lighter to look at than my overly-burned skin. And so, there a pervent wish to become fat started.
Fattening myself was slow in coming. Lacking significantly in nutritious food, I never really put on the desired weight until I was in high school. However, during those times when I was still skinny I turned on all my attention to taking to heart seriously the wisdom that what is beauty after all if only skin deep. So, I nourish my mind for it does not cost me a single cent to do so. Books are always there for me to read. And I steer clear of people--a lot of people. Those people who wouldn't have understood my preoccupation and would only ridicule me. Also I had become the champion of the underdogs. You can't blame me for becoming heroic when all I can read in books then are accounts of good behavior and heroism over and over.
Then high school came and I started gaining weight and become fat. But, alas! Becoming fat had not really improve my looks. Tsk, tsk, tsk, looking back I can only shake my head and smile at my naivete and stupidity. Worse, during that time and even during college I couldn't even care less about how I look. I am only too happy to be holding myself in any school discussion etc., to mind about my looks. Also more and more people come to me for all kinds of problems and advise. They may not like my looks but no one can never discount my words, for always I had the penchant for sagacious punchline. Also, I wouldn't have been able to afford better clothes just to improve my looks back then, so taking seriously that thought of senseless beauty as unimportant works well for me.
But then after awhile I have come to see glimpses of that person that my father saw. But only glimpses. Until one day when a guy co-worker got really entangled into the drama of his life and sucked me into it. Being the good listener that I am and despite the few malicious people surrounding me during those childhood days back... I still believe in the goodness of people. And so this guy friend shared his soul with me holding nothing back. Basking in the pleasure of feeling needed and being able to help, I had found myself slowly growing in affection for the man. Luckily, there was no reciprocal feeling and although the feeling grows I am still at the top of my emotions then for I know every reason and circumstance that bring on such emotions. Reflecting on that I told him something to this effect "now I already know why I had been given me a kindly face, an empathetic heart and a healthy body with a good shoulders for which to place my head. I believe this is because with these people coming to me for comfort I really need a sturdy shoulders for them to cry on, a heart that feels their pain so I would understand them better, a good head to have the heart in check and a body that would not entice men."
I believe he had laughed at me then. hehehe. But I was so sure of it for most of the people who come to me are men and if I do possess a face and a body worthy to become an FHM cover then I would be warding off sexual advances more than giving comfort and helping them help themselves.
Honestly, I do feel hurt when people maliciously call me fat. But then on hindsight, being fat is what I wish for and I would not regret it. My body speaks of my character. The things I have done in order for me to live a life that I wanted claim to have been lived my way... all the way. The extra fatty upper torso is partly due to those backbreaking sacks of stones I carried starting when I was still six years old. A labor I was proud of for it brought me my first uniform in school.
I couldn't help it when most people can't get past the skin. It's their basic prerogative. As long as I know and accept who and what I am... other people's opinion does not matter. I love myself and this fat body is intrinsically a part of me.
But then on second thought... I would love seeing the looks of those who mock my fats when I'll be given the chance to become as sexy as Angel Locsin. Hahaha... here I am again having another wish. I just hope wishing at 30 is also as potent as my wish at third grade.
I never was and would never be a beauty, except maybe in the eyes of my father (bless his soul) who was forever be blinded by his fatherly and unconditional love.
I could still remember during those elementary years when some classmates would talk about me unpleasantly because of my looks and the tattered uniform I wore. Being poor, my parents cannot afford to buy me new uniform and so I wore my older sister's school uniform to school which had been so old that it already had patches to it.
Adding to the clothes is my own looks. I was so skinny then, and my color is that unhealthy pallor of sun dried brown due to the constant sun exposure when we play and gather stones for a fee for building concrete houses.
I was however blessed with a good head that my classmates would not really ridicule me openly for fear of not being able to copy my answer to examinations.
Hahaha... even that early I know there is justice in the world.
Anyway, as I have said I have a good head and a good head sometimes makes you more aware than you like of what's going on and what has been talked about behind your back. Needless to say, I know what they were talking about me and that had made me really insecure with my looks.
I can still remember one day during my third grade when I was looking at my arm and tried to stretch it while thinking that maybe if I became fat I would be a lot lighter to look at than my overly-burned skin. And so, there a pervent wish to become fat started.
Fattening myself was slow in coming. Lacking significantly in nutritious food, I never really put on the desired weight until I was in high school. However, during those times when I was still skinny I turned on all my attention to taking to heart seriously the wisdom that what is beauty after all if only skin deep. So, I nourish my mind for it does not cost me a single cent to do so. Books are always there for me to read. And I steer clear of people--a lot of people. Those people who wouldn't have understood my preoccupation and would only ridicule me. Also I had become the champion of the underdogs. You can't blame me for becoming heroic when all I can read in books then are accounts of good behavior and heroism over and over.
Then high school came and I started gaining weight and become fat. But, alas! Becoming fat had not really improve my looks. Tsk, tsk, tsk, looking back I can only shake my head and smile at my naivete and stupidity. Worse, during that time and even during college I couldn't even care less about how I look. I am only too happy to be holding myself in any school discussion etc., to mind about my looks. Also more and more people come to me for all kinds of problems and advise. They may not like my looks but no one can never discount my words, for always I had the penchant for sagacious punchline. Also, I wouldn't have been able to afford better clothes just to improve my looks back then, so taking seriously that thought of senseless beauty as unimportant works well for me.
But then after awhile I have come to see glimpses of that person that my father saw. But only glimpses. Until one day when a guy co-worker got really entangled into the drama of his life and sucked me into it. Being the good listener that I am and despite the few malicious people surrounding me during those childhood days back... I still believe in the goodness of people. And so this guy friend shared his soul with me holding nothing back. Basking in the pleasure of feeling needed and being able to help, I had found myself slowly growing in affection for the man. Luckily, there was no reciprocal feeling and although the feeling grows I am still at the top of my emotions then for I know every reason and circumstance that bring on such emotions. Reflecting on that I told him something to this effect "now I already know why I had been given me a kindly face, an empathetic heart and a healthy body with a good shoulders for which to place my head. I believe this is because with these people coming to me for comfort I really need a sturdy shoulders for them to cry on, a heart that feels their pain so I would understand them better, a good head to have the heart in check and a body that would not entice men."
I believe he had laughed at me then. hehehe. But I was so sure of it for most of the people who come to me are men and if I do possess a face and a body worthy to become an FHM cover then I would be warding off sexual advances more than giving comfort and helping them help themselves.
Honestly, I do feel hurt when people maliciously call me fat. But then on hindsight, being fat is what I wish for and I would not regret it. My body speaks of my character. The things I have done in order for me to live a life that I wanted claim to have been lived my way... all the way. The extra fatty upper torso is partly due to those backbreaking sacks of stones I carried starting when I was still six years old. A labor I was proud of for it brought me my first uniform in school.
I couldn't help it when most people can't get past the skin. It's their basic prerogative. As long as I know and accept who and what I am... other people's opinion does not matter. I love myself and this fat body is intrinsically a part of me.
But then on second thought... I would love seeing the looks of those who mock my fats when I'll be given the chance to become as sexy as Angel Locsin. Hahaha... here I am again having another wish. I just hope wishing at 30 is also as potent as my wish at third grade.
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