My Freedom

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Argumentum Ad Misericordiam

I've been listening to the news on TV lately and I've come to one frightening conclusion: it's quite all right for children to watch violence on cartoon networks... Compared to the reality seen on the evening news, anime and superheroes are all sissies and nothing compares to the pathetic stupidity of adults.

Consider the people in the Philippine Congress for example. In a nutshell, the so-called-representatives-of-the-people are up in arms because the Supreme Court has dismissed their filing of TWO impeachment complaints against the Ombudsman. The law states that only one can be filed and these bright guys still insisted on having the complaints passed. Now they're calling the justice branch names like crony of the past president (who put the supreme court members there in the first place) and etcetera... They're even accusing it of creating a constitutional crisis, one that they are actually starting themselves.

A city mayor is seen crying and pounding the table with his fists because he is implicated in the hostage crisis that claimed many lives. He's crying that all the police have ever done was die for the people and so on... all that what he has worked for and the name he created for himself ... are all down the drain because of this accusation that as mayor, he should be blamed... more tears.Duh

Squatters clash with the police and members of the demolition team in a supposed private lot near EDSA. It is known that notices of eviction have been served many times in the past months and still the illegal occupants refused to budge. In a final sign of defiance, they seek the intervention of the reigning popular president to order a halt in the demolition. This is of course done through the watchful media whose coverage is seen worldwide. The president, who is presently in the US on a formal state visit orders a halt in the demolition. The squatters are happy.

The lawyers of the Ampatuans continue to create one delaying tactic after another to postpone the hearing of one of the most gruesome massacres in history. It is clear that for all their millions, the Ampatuans are happy because their lawyers are doing a very good job indeed.

I can't wait for tonight's evening news...and may God forget about Justin Beiber for a while and seriously bless this country. Amen

Thursday, July 15, 2010

In Search Of...

I've read so much about friendship, lasting friendship, true friends, and so on, that the grey area seems like an ocean and the islands are spread farther apart. Yet jaded as I am, I've learned a few things about friendship and I constantly sift through the countless acquaintances and relations, always on the lookout for that unpolished jewel that lasts forever. They are not so easy to find you know. The merry mix isn't at all pleasant and they can lead you into so many blind corners. There are friendships that gleam at first and you're blinded by their beauty. Then they fade like a cheap lightbulb. There are those that moisten their lips and kiss your existence with praises. Then they turn into leeches that drop away when sated. However, there are others that blend with the scenery and it's difficult to notice them. Then slowly they bloom and develop depth, never to be forgotten.

Years ago, I met an older woman in Koln whom we all regarded as mother. In the short time we were there, we became very close so that when the time to part came, it was difficult for me. Then she told me something I will never forget. True friends, she said, wherever they are, no matter how far apart, shall remain that. When they meet, they shall simply start where they left off and begin the cycle once again. No gaps. No pretenses and most certainly, no sadness.

I admit that I have acquired some really interesting jewels in my heart's closet and they remain there still, safely tucked away until my last breath. They know who they are, confident in our friendship and needing nothing else. For those who whine away over errant friends, "fake" friends and "f_king" friends, remember only one thing: use or abuse them... and you lose them. Another thing, the moment you demand that they be with you in your time of need, YOU are not a friend and they have become nothing but crutches. True friends come anyway whatever weather in your life.

P.S. So let's stop wasting our jewels. We have to be reminded that we have to HELP OURSELVES FIRST and not rely on those around us to fight our battles for us. That's watching too many cavalry movies.

-From an older blog, "Grey Matter Extensions: Things that go bump between the ears"

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The End?

No the journey doesn't end here.
Death is just another path.
One that we all must take.

The gray rain curtain of this world
rolls back and all turns to silver glass
and then you see it...

White shores and beyond...
a far green country
under a swift sunrise.

-Gandalf The Grey


Emptiness is a deviant world where color has no meaning and love is but a memory. Its sky is forever a shade below pale, w/ a paste-up moon hanging on wasted dreams. Its streets are lined with the dried shells of lost hopes, echoing the mournful cries of twisted souls who once dared but lost, tried but failed. Souls of dreamers who took a chance and are thus left chained to nothing but the promise of a whisper.

The Diplomacy of Olympus

How do we deal with people? Better still, how do we deal with people we don't want to deal with in the first place? How much can we take and how much snakes can we keep from bursting out of our mouths so that, like heat-seeking missiles, they find their way into the hearts of these vermin we so passionately hate?

Relax. Pray. Torture your Barbie. Etcetera. No matter, the moment is not without its resbak, the day ends and a new day begins... the circle completed, you have no choice (slave!) but to meet people once again. They are part of life!

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I worked at an office and one day, a group of visiting kulturati, really, old veterans who have made their mark in the field of arts... comes waltzing in.  Immediately, they scoop up some of our displays, our posters and command one of us to prepare the artifacts they've chosen for transport (not request mind you, command as in, do this peon!).  The resident O.C. that I am immediately swings into action. "Hey! You can't just barge in here and do that..."

And I am immediately put in my place... like the poor little fish stung by the invisible poisonous strings of the Port’ Man O War. "How dare you rebuke us? Is that the way to talk with someone senior? Aren’t you Tagalog, you don't know how to say PO? ... To think I KNOW your parents!" (Great, now not only am I going to lose my job, I’m getting a spanking as well...)

I just stood there absorbing all these sh_t from these older citizens of art Olympus and several thoughts boil in my head... yes, how do we deal with people? Particularly “these” people. The Don Corleone resident evil in my head says "with respect". But doesn't the word respect go together with the word "mutual"? The incredible hulk lurking neath my inner temple shouts “kill! Smash! Destroy!” But the cowardly Peewee Herman that I am says peace bro; she can kill you with those lethal stilettos! Then, the mother-like dweller of my left hemisphere coaxes, diplomacy.

Diplomacy? But isn't that a political word? Isn’t it that it means "compromise" in the real world? I’ve seen it among neighbors, more formidable than the fences that surround them. It is the unspoken “I don't care what you do, so why should you care what I do?”, otherwise called the “dedma” syndrome. I’ve seen it quite often among squabbling siblings, let's do this for mother, she's sick you know...

Ah diplomacy, the glue that keeps the world together. But wait, whatever happened to mutual and respect? Alas, I took the road less traveled. 

Go in peace Peewee and build your own world!

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Lest We Forget

The land weeps and bleeds from under my feet, 
yet there are times when I feel nothing. 
No tremors of unrest break out from my heart.  
It's just the purring of contented heartbeats that go 
throb-throb in its usual pace so that I am, 
conveniently alive. 
The visual assault of everyday makes me what I 
regrettably am sometimes
too numb to listen  to the scratching sound of despair. 
Too blind to believe that the tears
are rainfall in a loved one's cheeks.
These, plus the full volume of earphones 
cushion me from all ugliness,  as though beauty
were life's only worthy price.

Alas, I reckon I'd hear my earth's cry very soon
when this heart is still. 
I hear it now. 
Listen with me. 

Tuesday, July 6, 2010


I try to reach you but your mind is far away
I try to hold your hand but still your eyes stray
I try to make you songs
but you didn't seem to mind
it seems to me
you're engrossed in your own time
I'm leaning on hopes
I'm leaning on dreams
I'm leaning on practically everything
that is you.

And there were times
when it seemed I was breaking through your walls
just to find another that's
just as tall
at nights I'm always hoping
but baby it ain't all
I love you.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


when all the laughter dies in sorrow

and the tears have risen to a flood

and all the wars have found a cause

in human wisdom and in blood.

do you think they’ll cry in sadness?

do you think the eye will blink?

do you think they’ll curse the madness?

do you even think… they’ll think?

when all the great galactic systems

sigh to a frozen halt in space,

do you think there’ll be a remnant of beauty

of the human race?

do you think there’ll be a vestige,

a sniffle, or a cosmic tear?

do you think, a greater thinking thing,

will give a damn…

that man was here?

(Canon, the Chicago’s first album, 1972)

Reflections of a Tree Trunk

The knowing smiles from the worn out faces make me smile myself, especially when the owners are old friends, talking about the "know-it-all" posturing of their teen children. "How can i study without that Ipod?, i need music!" or " I need soccer in my activities or else how can I cope with first year?" huh?
Tired faces who’ve seen better days. There was a time I saw them like fresh daisies, all glistening with the sweat of youth, running around campus, leaflets in hand, passing out schedules and rally points, debating on puns and dialectics, even sharing the latest playboy in the safety of the science lab. Or dead drunk, with saliva slowly making that shiny journey from mouth to the floor.
Now, who’d ever imagine that after all those glorious days that never seem to end, we’d all come down to this: pudgy blobs of french fry fat, sitting drinking coffee and pathetically reduced to following the dictum of that age-old-tradition where one is imposed upon to attend reunions and relive the "good-old-days" ?
"I hate my children", my friend says. "They’re too much like me! All day till dinner, i sit with a bunch of clones who hug my tv and rob me of my favorite channels. I go out and play golf and my " prodigies" pile up in the car and try to put on their best dad joke. my neighbors think I’m cool but really, cool to the touch is more like it… almost dead cool."
As for me, I’m with my son everyday. Almost every second of the day to be exact. He’s eight, calls me tree trunk, likes to reads Greek Mythology and invents monsters and legends as if he had a copyright to them. Clutters of drawings, rough sketches and cardboard posters litter our house so much that I’ve numbers of times swore to the high heavens that I’ll never clean up again, ever.
He thinks the ATM counter is the place where grownups get money given by the government. Free. So why can’t I buy him the latest K-Zone, when he knows I have money right? He likes to call me "My King" and sometimes fixes the bed to look like a throne, compleat with a tray of juice and biscuits, but he bosses me around the house and reminds me to stop being stressed whenever i shout "you're killing me!". At least i don’t hate him. love that little guy so much, i still hug him tight when he sleeps. oh well, what do you know, the old tree trunk’s a softie.
The day is almost over and the color of the day turns into an earthy shade. The neighbor’s kids along with the neighbor’s dogs intrude upon the serenity of memories. Time to fade once again. Let’s crawl back to where we came from. Till next reunion.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Fence Sitters in Election Land

With the Philippine elections over, the euphoria of engaging in a first ever automated process is immediately doused by charges of rigging, and massive vote-buying. All these are only second to the overwhelming election violence that has been denounced worldwide through the internet and the media. These are our realities and we accept it. The left and right barrage of opinions however, is easily the one that highlights our attributes as a people. For one, the losing applicants never seem to want to concede. They always claim to have been cheated. Accusations abound, from the ridiculous to the mundane. And there seems to be no proof. Others point to "some" people who engaged in bribery, but refuse to give names. Opinions abound and almost everyone has hundreds of them. Nothing seems to matter. It's like watching catfishes in an aquarium; all going in one direction but not going anywhere at all. Quo Vadis Pinoy?