Death by Suffrage

I don’t know how or where to start. Writing long and winding articles have always been where I’m good at. I have also been believed to have the gift of expression — I find it easy to say (or write) exactly how I feel. But now I can’t seem to mince words to express myself.

Photo by underbiteman

Something has gone awry these past few days — since Monday night to be precise. My heart is heavy, if not completely shattered post-election day when the results started coming in.

It just dawned on me — just now, how I should begin this post.

“Hi. My name is RJ and I am a sore loser.”

I have stopped updating my election results post just this morning after waking up to a persistent heartache — that which pierces one’s soul and wouldn’t stop until you bleed to death. You might think I’m just being poetic, but I’m not. I have put up with this for almost a week. I need a breather.

There is an air of melancholy in my otherwise bossa nova-filled house. I have been living off fast food since Monday. I can’t seem to cook or even want to. I can’t seem to empty my head of everything I’m seeing and hearing. I am filled with such sorrow as if someone had just died.

For days now, I am trying to sort this out and have resorted to mindless singing and dancing and an obsessive-compulsive reading of news feeds since after elections. It’s as if my phone is glued to my palm and my news feeds are what’s keeping me alive. I check on the news by the minute, afraid that I may miss out on latest events. But the truth couldn’t be farther — I was (and still am) hoping that one of these days I will find the answer to this nagging question: “What happened? Where did my vote go? Are you saying that while some candidates were hard put on raising issues and platform above ‘personality’ millions of people weren’t even listening?” Maybe they were listening — to public radio. Can you blame them? Debates are boring. Mudslinging is oh-so-fun. Scandals and rumors are titillating. Economic and constitutional reforms are not.

Plans vs. Zombies

I feel like a log drifting in open water. All these, because I have filled my heart and head with so much enthusiasm and hope that change is gonna come — and my candidate of choice would be that “knight in shining armor” who will snatch this damsel-in-distress-of-a-nation from the clutches of hopelessness and jadedness. Like the “Prince Charming” of fairy tales, it was destined to wake up this sleeping-beauty-of-a-nation. Not for happily ever after, but at least, for sustained socio political and economic stability.

But this is real life. No knights in shining armor, no princes charming. Heck, not even “sober” damsels-in -distress!

Nobody cares about sober plans. In this country, if you can gather a sizable crowd of zombies who idolize you (or the blood that runs through your veins), you can be president. Heck, you can even snatch the post if that’s what it takes! You don’t have to be believable. You just have to be a wonderful and convenient choice!

If this is a fairy tale, this is “The Pied Piper and the Charmed Herd: Destiny of Doom”. Okay, I made that up.

All hail the hypocrites!

I am not happy that we have once again found ourselves at this road. Doesn’t it all look too familiar to you?

The name. The reason. The circumstances. Even the battle cry.

I refuse to put up with all this hypocrisy about unity and acceptance and moving on. I am sorry. I am a sore loser and I’ll probably die being one. Go on your merry way with your unity rally, one less person isn’t such a loss to you — in the same way one more vote didn’t turn out to be significant enough to change the course of history.

Where are thou?

I miss Jose Rizal. Not that I’ve known him personally of course. I just wish he was here. His wisdom would have enlightened us.

I miss Andres Bonifacio too. His courage and trusty bolo would have inspired us to damn the odds and just do what the @#$@#$ we had to do to straighten things up.

I miss heroes of the old days — those we can only read in books. Those whose sacrifices were so real that the stench of their blood-soaked clothes will kill you. Those who never, not once, thought of doing it for themselves, but always for the country.

Those who despite standing alone, stood their ground and paid a dear price for it.

Where have they all gone? Why is it so hard to produce the likes of them in this generation?

Mere tokens

I have, for over a year, written until my fingers refused to type any longer, read until my eyes drooped in weak surrender — hoping and even believing that I was in fact, preaching to the choir.

I was wrong. I could have tried harder. I could have done better than being a slacktivist. Because if I did better, maybe I wouldn’t feel this bad. But then again, maybe even that would not have been enough.

You’ve probably sensed the stinking incoherence in my writing right now. I am sorry to disappoint you today. As of this time, I am going through difficult stages of denial, anger, grief and pain — in random order and in frequent attacks. I do not understand why I am not as happy as everyone else. And it’s not just because my candidate lost. It’s because he lost by a HUGE margin. So huge that I tear myself up each time I update the partial and unofficial results.

As far as I can see, we are nowhere near the end of the tunnel. And even if we get there, them political swindlers will just keep on buying new tunnels — because they don’t want us to see the light. Because if we did, we’d be so terrified to see how monstrous they all look like in broad daylight.

I won’t tell you there is hope. There is none. We have single-handedly (as a nation) killed hope in one day.

Parting words

Democracy isn’t about conceding to the majority. It isn’t about mindlessly following the herd to the ditch. It isn’t about repeating history over and over just because someone said “Practice makes perfect.” — this isn’t sports or arts — this is the very fiber that holds us together — the very ground we are standing on — the very air we breathe. And logic dictates that it isn’t even about the majority knowing what’s best for everyone else.

Democracy is an exercise of people’s responsibility to defend the weak and to subdue the strong — to uplift and protect the interest of the true minority in order to maintain balance, order and harmony. In simple terms — to take care of each other.

And by that definition, the democracy you all so proudly speak of — is dead.

P.S.

Due to these recent events, I have decided to stall this blog. If it were up to me, I’d rather not blog about politics again (but some things are too difficult to let go). That’s how devastated I am of these elections. I may or may not blog again, I don’t know. And while I cannot bring myself to say good luck, I’d rather say God Bless the Philippines — the land of my forefathers and the land of my descendants! Me and my son will serve this country the best way we can.

“…Buhay ay langit sa piling mo.

Aming ligaya na pag may mang-aapi,

Ang mamatay ng dahil sayo.”

– “Lupang Hinirang”, Pambansang Awit ng Pilipinas

I have this ultimate and rather obscene fantasy. In this fantasy, there’s this one person who digs like mad through my blog archives in the dead of the night– every night, finding pleasure in reading all the words I’ve written before and always in eager anticipation of what I will write about next. Always wondering about what I have to say and clinging to my words and opinions as if her very life depended on it — as if there is no better opinion on earth but mine.

Photo by Laughing Squid

To this person, whatever I write about is worth gold. It doesn’t matter if I fail horribly with my grammar or if what I write about doesn’t even make sense. Because to this nocturnal being, my blog and words are as alive as I am — and that is all that matters. It may not be the most rewarding of human relationships but it’s the next best thing, she thinks.

If I told her ‘so and so’ is the best, she would believe. If I told her ‘this and that’ is a lie, she’d take my word for it. Yes, she’s completely capable of thinking for herself but she chooses to believe me just because she wants to.

I could sell her anything I want to, even the very soul she already has — and she will buy in a heartbeat. With such conviction. Without the slightest reservation. Without questions.

She is that ultimate blog reader. One who sees your blog as no separate entity from you, the blogger. One whose respect for you is intertwined with eternal fascination.

But the bad news is she doesn’t exist.

When I started out with blogging, I started fairly the same way and for fairly the same reasons as others before me did and had. All I wanted was to chronicle my life experiences one day at a time so that one day, I or someone I cared about can recreate that one specific day like a photograph — like a picture, yes, but this time, with words.

I know ‘a picture paints a thousand words’. My blog hopes to do the reverse — to recreate the picture in your mind through a ‘thousand words’. Little did I know that it would require much more effort than I prepared for or that I would end up writing about politics (as if my life as it is isn’t boring enough).

Eventually, as with many things in my life, the blog took a life of its own and chose to go out into the words, unescorted, deep into the night. You can say that it had its expected encounters with wolves, monsters and aliens. While every step was fraught with danger, it’s not without its occasional meetings with friendly animals and there were countless times when it was awakened by serenades from nightingales.

It’s easy for a blog to get lost in the woods. But the problem doesn’t end there.

Most times, the blog takes a reader with it and both of them get lost. That’s where ‘responsible blogging’ comes in, as if on cue, reminding the blogger to look before he leaps because most times, he doesn’t leap alone.

You the blogger reading this, have you ever realized how influential a blogger you’ve become? Yeah sure, you may not be such a hot shot yet but has it ever occurred to you that it’s possible someone from somewhere follows you blindly into the woods every night?

Have you ever thought that each time you come home after an evening of dalliance with your charming post, someone is stuck somewhere deep into the woods? Lost. Or worse, never to be seen again?

It’s really great that you give readers these wonderful distractions otherwise known as insightful articles. Go right ahead and woo them effortlessly like you always do. Take them every night into the woods with you. But when you’ve made your point and before the night is through, please be kind enough to take them back with you. It’s the least you could do in exchange for what they’ve given you — their trust.

Because, remember that ultimate blog reader I told you about?

What if she does exist?

What if she’s GMA? :)

Be careful how you wield that sword. We don’t want anybody to get hurt. Responsible blogging is not just a choice. It should be the only choice.

*** Blog responsibly. Nothing could be easier. ***

Photo by enggul** My apologies to my foreign friends/readers: I had to write this entire post in Filipino in honor of our 111th Independence Day. Please use Google Translate widget at the rightmost side if you need a rough translation. Thank you. **

Ngayong ika-111 taon ng kalayaan ng mahal kong Pilipinas na kumupkop sa aking mga ninuno at kukupkop sa susunod pang salinlahi, ipinahahayag ko at pinagtitibay ang mga biyayang angkin ng aking kalayaan:

Ako’y malaya, (I’m free)
Sa anumang uri ng pang-aalipin — ng dayuhan man o kapwa Pilipino (free from slavery)
Sa pang-aabuso ng makasarili at mapag-imbot na tao (free from abuse)
Sa anumang uri ng pananakit — pisikal, mental, emosyonal o pulitikal
Sa pang-gigipit ng taong nasa kapangyarihan (free from threats of power)
Sa pananakot ng kapitalistang mapagsamantala (free from economic threats)
Sa pagpili ng nais kong relihiyon o paniniwala (freedom of choice)
Sa pagboto ng ninais kong lider (right and freedom to vote)
Sa panloloko ng mapanlinlang na mga pulitiko (freedom from political “swindlers”)
Sa kagutuman, sa kahirapan, sa krimen. (free from hunger, poverty and crime) Continue Reading