Road to Dead

Back in college, some of my friends used to talk about a particular professor who often cried in class. As she talked about how our country has been governed over the years and how she has participated in many government fact-finding commissions with their recommendations remaining as just that - recommendations - she'd stop for a second or two and continue with her lecture, teary-eyed and frustrated.

Last night, I knew how she felt.

Watching the news and seeing how difficult it was for our officials to evacuate our overseas workers from Libya, I felt that same frustration. How bureaucratic can you get when there's imminent danger to lives? And the gravity of the Filipino diaspora suddenly dawned on me, of how we need to leave our families and loved ones just so we could provide them with a better, more financially secure life. That's when I started to cry.

The previous day, I sat in a meeting with one of our public partners and she lamented the lack of direction they've been receiving thus far. Apparently, the "matuwid na daan" was just that: matuwid albeit with nowhere to go. And it doesn't exactly help when your President promised to be different from previous administrations, that he'd be responsive and would listen to us, his "boss," then buys himself a Porsche and test-drives it through the SCTEX in the wee hours of the night. How insensitive can you get? And how selective this "matuwid" but directionless "na daan" is is becoming more apparent as this administration fumbles through one gaffe to another.

Good intentions.
Competence.
Depth of character.
Depth of thinking.
Life experiences.
Unfulfilled promises.
Amateurs.
Lip service.

They say that waiting is a sacrament and that the fruits of change will blossom in a year or two. But then how could there be fruits when to this date, no seeds have been sown? Romanticizing this whole business of a "matuwid na daan" has been the biggest frustration. And when the hard realities of incompetence knocks at the very door of lives, it is high time to re-examine the leadership we've been getting.

Amidst the EDSA songs playing in the background as I write this, one can only hope... and then act some more.

How do you know when your heart cries?

When the pounding in your chest finds its way to your eyes and the blank stares that you give betray the somber space of your soul.

Finding Strength

My sister's high school friend walked from the Philippine Heart Center to their house in Mandaluyong because he had no money... his family had no money. His mom was fighting for her life at the hospital. A few days later, after reports of a seeming recovery, the kid's mom passed away. That fateful morning, I was walking along Makati Avenue on my way to work. A buzz from my phone saw a message from my sister: "Kuya, namatay na iyong nanay ng kaklase ko."

We were never the touchy-feely kind at home but at that point I replied: "Papunta ako office, naiyak naman ako dito sa daan."

And she replied: "Oo, ako nga rin naiyak."

Of Guns and Tanks and Moving Out

Two weeks, two phone calls, one former professor, one job.

He's been Assistant Secretary of the Defense Department for over a year now and he's building his office, among his key requirements is a policy analyst. Good news is that the Budget Department has approved his request for permanent posts, plantilla, as government jargon says.

At the back of my mind this spells pay cut for sure. It's the government and not much can be expected in spite of the newly introduced salary standardization. But then, admittedly, those phone calls had in themselves immense psychic rewards. No longer recommendatory but actual policy, he says. A level up from what we used to do a couple of years back. Lots of travels, he adds. But then would I really want to travel with military escorts at hand? In the few instances I did that before, I used to think of it as joining a moving target. Ambush anyone? But yeah, me and my girly self writing what the Defense Department should do? Ironic yet it definitely boosts my pride. One small step for me, one big leap for gayhood. It's like figuratively emasculating the defense establishment. Lol.

But seriously, it has been my dream to be sent to the Spratlys. I just might be able to do it this time.

Still, the question remains, to move out or not? If yes, then why there?

Water

This is the same sadness I felt when I found myself floating in a pool, face up, staring at a sky half-afternoon, half-night. It was raining but the gray clouds allowed for some tiny lights to peep. Almost dinner, I thought. And from a distance I could hear the South China Sea crashing against a beach of pebbles. The coast was more of a reef really, a stretch of calcified corals whose puddles of water during low tide allowed one to "swim" in salt water. At the end of that stretch though was a deep drop. The fishermen and other locals warned us not to go near that border. Though we may be prudent enough not to jump that steep underwater cliff, the waves are not as forgiving. They pound and in a split second, they could sweep us off our feet and have us floating to the sea.

It was gloomy to say the least. But that gloom was a perfect fit to what I felt. And when you're sad and tired at the same time, emptiness creeps in. Twisted, yet that emptiness provided some solace. At that point, I felt a sense of peace.

I was at peace... floating in a pool, staring at a conflicted sky, gray clouds sending me wet kisses. I close my eyes, and sigh.

Perfect

Yikes. I feel as if I'm the worst person in the world. Yes, I am a judgmental brat without regard for what other people have gone through. He says I should stop labelling characters. Condemn the act and not the person. Well, I do agree. It's just that never did I think of myself as THAT bad when it comes to it. I guess that's the blind spot in my Johari Window.

Discounting whether it was intentional or not, fact is, as he says, I crossed the line.

And I still have to come to terms with how self-righteous I supposedly am, with how I managed to box people into a caste that presumably puts me on top of the pecking order. Wow, never in a million years did I think of myself as having the audacity to throw my weight around and act as if I'm better than others. And him saying that I should look around me because for sure there are people far better than I am really shook me to the core. It caught me off guard simply because in my heart of hearts, I never really saw myself as "mayabang." If at all, I've been struggling to find my worth and regard myself more highly. Well, then again, blind spot, Johari window.

But am I really THAT bad? The barrage of words seems to affirm it, attributing thoughts I supposedly harbored even if I honestly never put things as that. Or perhaps I'm just in denial. In denial or not, it just sucks to be in this position. Apparently, starting out as a nice guy sets high expectations upon you. It's kind of Machiavellian really: the tyrant who starts out hard and slowly mellows down is better received than the one who starts out nice and slowly closes his fist.

Expectations. Always take the high road. I expected more from you.

I don't have much pride to give in that what I did was wrong. Yes, I may have really crossed the line. I just wish somebody at least cared to understand me as much as they understand the other side. That I too get hurt and that I am not beyond insecurity.

Alas, while this war wagers on, the other side of the battlefield are taken simply as twisted and lonely. How enticing the other side is. You get to have fun and the worst thing they could tell you is that you're simply misunderstood.

Fighting the good fight sometimes gets really exhausting. In the end, the war really is within you. Prudence, emotions, entitlement, choices... when security was what you've been searching for all along. A place where you are enough and you can feel safe, transparent and all. Perhaps the whole "downgrade" thing really was a defense mechanism. And yet, I'll be damned if I uese that as an excuse. I am not beyond reproach, I wish it was just done with as much kindness as he sees the other side. And so we go back to the very core: do you feel secure? Do you feel safe?

I guess I really have a lot of growing up to do.

*****

I don't know if I've already written this somewhere but when I confronted my first ex during those turbulent times and asked him where were we back then, he blatantly told me to my face that he chose the other guy. For what it's worth, I found consolation in friends saying that his decision was to "downgrade." It was said mostly in jest, a crack to put a little smile on my face, regardless of whether it was true or not. I realized that I now use it as a crutch whenever I feel an impending "takeover." Yes, that chink in my armor spells itself as insecurity.

How I wish people would take time to understand what I've gone through as much as they try to understand others. Ultimately, I feel even more insecure that in this circle of trying to understand people, I am at the periphery. Again, I am least of priorities.

It doesn't excuse my thoughts or actions. I take responsibility for them.

But a little compassion would have helped. Perhaps with that, I won't feel as if I'm the worst person in the world.

Streamline

Less clutter, less complications.

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"I couldn't care less," is yet another maxim for the year.