There is nothing spurious about myself. I just try to write what's in my head. I do not apologize for being rash or frank or downright devious. There is simply too much chaos in this world to remain hushed.
When I was old enough to commute, I recall having to pay P1.50 to P2 depending on the distance. Sensible enough since I could buy candies and other goodies with my one peso. My mother complained about it. The usual bragging of old people, recalling how cheap products were during their time. Again, I did not care since I had P10 all for myself plus my packed baon.
As of this writing, the world awaits for news about Angelito Nayan who was abducted together with two other election volunteers in Afghanistan. The deadline set by the Jaish-al Muslimeen, a Taliban splinter group has expired hours ag0 but there has been been no information yet on the hostages’ fate. Department of Labor and Employment Secretary Patricia Sto. Tomas has expressed her high hopes that Nayan will be released since the Philippines have not deployed any troops to Afghanistan.
Robert Tarongoy, on the other hand, the OFW kidnapped by Iraqi rebels, has been reportedly released alongside Nepalese hostage Yunus Kawari. The Nepal government has confirmed the release of Kawari but officials here are careful to give any information on Tarongoy, a policy they have learned since Sec. Sto. Tomas’ too early announcement of Angelo dela Cruz’ release.
After a long, strenuous week, I find myself looking forward to this weekend ahead of me. I have just gone through an ineptly talented artist some claim to be Filipino, corrupt generals, a number of dead fetuses and a handful of captured birds. I want so much to treat myself to a simple vacation, perhaps a long overdue trip to Baguio but my finances won’t allow me to do that now, not after paying all those bills, whew!
Which somehow gets me thinking, why is it that to become rich (as in overflowing with money) in this country, you only either have to be a corrupt official or become a famous artista sans talent or in Jasmine Trias’ case, she only had to be American.
This week has been so excruciating for us here at the newsroom. Thanks to ‘Fil-Am idol’ Jasmine Trias who arrived in Manila just a few days ago. A week before that, the bosses were pestering me on how we could get Jasmine for an exclusive sit-down interview. I could not fathom how we had to go through all these brouhaha for a singer we call our own yet aspired to be the American Idol . The day after Jasmine arrived, headlines bannered “Jasmine Trias comes ‘home,'” “Homecoming for American Idol finalist.” This is after Jasmine herself said when asked if she was willing to stay in her supposed ‘home’: “I don’t think it’s possible at the moment. Besides, Hawaii is home for me.”
A month ago, during the Athens Olympics, all eyes were on Natalie Coughlin, the gold medalist swimmer whose grandmother, apparently, was a Filipina. Talks of getting her to play for the Philippines in the 2006 Asian games came about. An officemate agreed with me on how stupid the idea was. Being Filipino seems to have less and less meaning these days.
I’m not the type who reads bestsellers. Usually, it takes me years before I read books raved about by everyone. It took me three Harry Potter books to pass before I had an interest to might as well read the first one. Last week, while I was rummaging through some books I bought but haven’t finished, I saw Dan Brown’s celebrated novel The Da Vinci Code and decided what the heck, might as well read the damn thing.
Voila! I got hooked. I was supposed to write something political here but I wasn’t able to jot it down because I was reading, what else?
Thing is I’ve always been a believer of the sacred feminine and the “grand conspiracy” against it. History is made by those in power, as the book suggests. My history professor would even add that history is made by those who have the means to change or twist it. If that’s the case, then it’s really up to us to decode our own truths or leave it to faith.
I am fat.
No, seriously, people from work think I am. It is not enough that I’m super-gooey nice to them or that I’m smart, funny and can get along well with just about anybody. I simply don’t fit into that Barbie girl archetype. Not that I want to be Barbie. She’s too blond and dull for my type. Plus her wardrobe’s not that great.
Since time immemorial, I think I have always been self conscious about my weight. In a society flogged down by skinny girls in skimpy clothing, Thin is in. Anything less than that or should I say more than that is just not right. Whatever.
Just a month after the Angelo dela Cruz hostage crisis, the Philippine government is now seriously contemplating on lifting the ban on sending overseas Filipino workers to Iraq. The pullout of RP troops from the war-torn country to risk the life of one truck driver has spun criticisms from abroad including the United States and Australia to name a few.
I remember the long hours we had to endure inside the freezing, tension-filled newsroom as we awaited Angelo’s fate, just about a month ago. Looking back, I could only imagine now the agony his family felt. More vividly, I could still remember the smiles on our faces when we finally saw Angelo looking shaken but alive on our television screens.
