I haven’t watched the news in over a year. Because I was immersed in my studies (maybe) and I have no television in my apartment (wifi is all a person needs). So when I sat down with my Dad and watched the news, I was kind of mortified.
The pork-barrel issue is far from over. And apparently it involves senators and other important political people who suddenly get sick when thrown or is about to be thrown into prison. (Marcos, I know your LUPUS was real but seriously. Were your germs scientifically contagious?)
There are allegations for the impeachment of the current president. Now this, for someone who has no idea what’s going on with her country is just peachy. Real peachy.
Taal volcano is suddenly very interesting. To the scientific community, anyway. And not in a good kind of way. That volcano is about an hour away from where my house is. If this is not enough to put me into a panic mode, I don’t know what is.
Super typhoon Glenda passed by and made a big wreck of my country. Even until now I see power companies fixing posts here and there, and at night some houses remain dark with only the flickering flame of a candle to amplify the sink with no water coming through. And God, the billions of pesos this one cost us. The money that went to those corrupt politicians’ pockets could be really useful right now.
China. Oh, China. Why so greedy? We get it. You have this awesome Utopia-ish plan for your 100th anniversary on 2049 or something. But why does it look like you’re waging war on us? That’s the last thing this country needs. And our president is already “tightening bonds” with Japan and the US. God, politics portrayed by elegantly dressed people with impressive resumes is like looking at Pasig river. Looks clean; but it’s dead.
The Philippines is no warrior. Our country’s history says so. We hold swords but they held guns. We kill five but they’ve killed hundreds. I write a book and I get shot and become a hero.
But remember that woman? The one who was forced to marry a man she did not love; who later on died so she became a rich young widow. Then she married someone she truly loved. Then he died and she became a determined and courageous widow who stood up for her nations’s freedom but later on died too? I think our country is Gabriela Silang. We weren’t born a warrior. We weren’t meant to be a warrior. But we became one in the end anyway. We’ve lost so much in our previous battles. But that doesn’t mean we have to give up. That doesn’t mean we’re supposed to don our black veil and quietly mourn our beloved’s death.
That is so weak. And so predictable for a woman. But she was the first woman who led her own rebellion. Even if it hadn’t been successful, the very gesture—the very fact that it had been that worse to initiate a woman to do something like that speaks volume.
I don’t think history repeats itself. Because if it does, humanity is a moron. What kind of person looks back at his past and makes the same mistakes in the present?
I think I have to watch the news more often.
One, to become a doctor.
Two, to fall in love. (not the other way around although it would be really nice if it was mutual)
When I have a daughter someday, no matter how busy I would be with work or other pressing matters, I’ll make sure to make some time to teach her how to play gory video games and drive a big bike. I’ll bring home soju or tequila, be a lazy mother and prepare ramen then watch Harry Potter movieswith her at most twice a month. I’ll ask her what she’d like to be someday, and if she says she’d want to be a princess, I’ll buy her a freaking pink tutu and then let her wear it. If she thinks it’s uncomfortable and too snug and itches in a bunch of places she doesn’t want to name, I’ll probably smirk and say, “It’s hard being a princess, isn’t it?” And if she still thinks it’s her dream, then I’ll buy her Barbie dolls but then I would have also bought a toy helicopter and purposely stood by the door, controlling the damn thing. If she drops the doll, I’ll give her the remote control. If she doesn’t, I’ll leave it on the floor anyway. Because I would love to give her the options.
When I have a daughter someday, and she keeps ignoring the piano in the living room, I’ll buy her a guitar. And if she doesn’t touch that either, I’ll drag her to a karaoke bar and tease her until she gives in. Even if the first verse sounded off key, I would cry and talk to her about my favorite singers in the world and how they just vanished when I heard her sing.
When I have a daughter someday, I’ll tell her she is beautiful. And if she’s desperate to get thinner, I’ll arrange her diet for her. She will lose weight in the right way and we will go to the gym together. If she’s stepping over the line and refusing to touch her food, I’ll buy a chocolate cake and leave it at her door with a note saying, "The whole world is blind. Don’t listen to the jokes, to the teasings. They don’t know you. But I do. And I think you’re beautiful."
When I have a daughter someday and she falls in love with the wrong man, I’ll ask her something: Is he the love of your life or your soulmate? And if she can’t decide, if she can’t answer or choose, I would have grounded her for as long as it takes to make her realize that she made a mistake. That the tattoo she got to impress him would have disabled her to save my life in case I needed blood transfusion. Or that the smoking habit she developed is actually the reason our old neighbor started a vice he had already given up on.
When I have a daughter someday, I would have found her diary and shown it to her. "I didn’t read it. But here’s a key. Keep it there, okay? And don’t let anyone see it. Because someday you’d want to read it again and remember what it was like to be a teenager again, to be a kid again. So you could understand what your own daughter is going through and be the mother she needs."