The ActiveTalker

Do you know that:
March 22, 1897, at the Tejeros Convention in Cavite, Gat. Andres Bonifacio was elected as Director of the Interior. When he was being proclaimed, a member of the Magdaló faction of the Katipunan stood up and protested saying the position is an exalted one and only a lawyer should hold. Gat. Andres Bonifacio was hurt and felt insulted. It was agreed upon that whoever got elected was to be respected. Bonifacio demanded Tirona to retract what he said, but instead of apologizing, he left the scene. Bonifacio drew his pistol and was about to shoot Tirona when Artemio Ricarte intervened and prevented what could have been a blood bath.

That is one of the oldest, if not, the first election related violence in the Philippine annals.

Finally, after months of campaigning and billions of pesos spent, the moment of truth has come. It’s election day, the day millions of Filipinos are waiting for. The day when the people themselves decide for their future, and  the future of their children.

But why do we have to vote? It is because of the right we have called suffrage. Our rights are the duties other people. For example, I have the right to vote, it is the duty of my neighbor to respect it an not to coerce me into voting for someone they like me to vote for.

Our freedom to choose is one of God’s gift to us. We have the right to choose and it is the duty of others to respect it.

Just a few hours from now, I will be exercising that freedom. I will cast my vote as a free man, free of whatsoever dictate or orders from other people. I will shade the circle next to my candidate’s name. I already made my choice a few months ago and now, I am excited to make it a reality.

I encountered a Facebook status stating that now, elections in the Philippines is among the leading cause of death among Filipinos. I am alarmed. It is because, our freedom is being threatened.

But, I won’t let that stand in the way. I will choose, I have chosen my candidate and I will vote for them when I get inside the polling precinct.

So, here I am inside a jeepney and on my way to work and I thought of sharing this to you.

Everyday, I ride a jeepney to go to work. I get to experience a lot of things every 20 minutes inside the jeepney. Even when waiting for a ride, I am already exposed to a lot of things.

Let me begin a day’s journey in the street corner where I wait for a ride. Nowadays, the National and Local Elections just loom around the corner and politicians(and wannabe politicians), particularly at the local level, hires a lot of guys who drive around town in a vehicle with loud speakers. It can be very annoying sometimes, particularly the ones who use what they call “trompa” or speakers shaped like a trumpet. Some even play jingles that can really annoy you. Posters are eyesores, jingles are earsores(is there such a term as an earsore?).

At last, here comes the jeepney! Now, I can go to work in peace. But most of the time, the ride is not peaceful.

Sometimes, I would have to endure the old “manangs” talking loudly in their native dialect. I even had an experience wherein there was a girl(who looked like a boy clad in jejemon outfit) who was fast asleep. Her head kept on tossing sideways annoying other passengers beside her. I could tell if she’s drunk as I have anosmia(I lost my olfactory sensitivity).

Most of the time, the jeepney’s inner part, the seats behind the driver are vacant, but some passengers insist on sitting beside the door, or “estribo” as we call it in Filipino. As a result, all the other passengers on that side will have to adjust to let the passenger sit.

Those are just some of my everyday experiences on my way to work.

I was thinking this past few days, what if I take blogging seriously? I know, I am a full-time instructor at the community college near our town. And now, I was designated as a guidance counselor of the school and facilitating the college entrance test. Plus, my daughter is growing up fast.

Can I do it? Can I be like my sister who balances being a SPED Teacher, a full-time mom, teacher to her home-schooling kids and a blogger. She writes about a lot of things and she earns while doing so.

Now, can I do it(again)? I think I have this “writer’s block”, as my friend quoted it. I have so many ideas running into my head, but the moment I sit down and begin to think of what I will write on my blog, BOOOM! I go blank.

Maybe this is a good start,  share a glimpse of what goes on in my life. Maybe later, I can get used to doing this.

I think this may be it for now. ‘Till the next blog post! God bless and stay sharp.

“Tanggapin ang pera,
Iboto ang kursunada/konsensya”

That has got to be one of the most popular quotations nowadays. As you know, the National Elections is just around the corner, that includes the local elections. And as far as I’m concerned, it is as tensioned (on a personal level) as the national elections.

I wrote this piece to share my views on this issue. I know that some people see this as “getting even” on candidates who use their money to influence our less fortunate, “mahirap,” kababayans to vote for them. These “mahihirap” will trade a day’s meal or two (amounting to something from 500 pesos to around 1,500 pesos just to assure that “candidate” their vote in the elections. While some “wise” candidates will accept the money but in turn, vote for the candidate whom their “conscience” tells them to vote.

For me that is plain nonsense and unethical that it provides a ground for a more personal definition of corruption on a more, an in-depth, personal aspect.

In the first place, accepting the money is plain corruption. Even though we’re not actually voting for them, we tolerate their money giving “philosophy” (so to speak) by accepting it and giving our promise to vote for them. Some of these individuals actually look very optimistic to the point they practice ingratiation, in order to get the money in exchange of their “vote” for that candidate.

Ang pagtanggap ng pera mula sa mga kandidatong namimili ng boto ay MALI pa din. We are simply tolerating their evil practice by being “evil” in our own ways. How can you entrust your future and the future of sons and daughters to these kind of politicians who corrupt the minds of the voters by giving fantastic promises to the people and even claiming that they are “poor“

Let us be responsible for our action practicing in our own ways Confucius’ Political Philosophy. I heard from an all-knowing individual to just get the money and you’re free as long as you voted for who your conscience is telling you.

Let’s be socially conscious of our actions, because as Sir Isaac Newton’s law states it, “For every action, there is always an equal and opposite reaction.”

“The only way to escape the personal corruption of praise is to go on working.”
-Albert Einsten

March 17, 2010 is the 53rd death anniversary of President Ramon F. Magsaysay. He is the president who opened Malacañan to the masses. He named the presidential plane, “Mt. Pinatubo,” a volcano in his home province of Zambales and died when the plane crashed in Cebu. http://ping.fm/Xe97l

This was taken last Saturday (March 6, 2010) at the Bangantalinga shoreline in Iba, Zambales just after the sunset. The photo is a bit blurry because it was taken on my Nokia n70 mobile phone.

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” -Saint Augustine
http://ping.fm/myliq

This is what happened to the part of the National Highway in Zambales in Carael, Botolan, Zambales. The damage was caused by typhoon Kiko that caused a major flood, almost submerging 10 baranggays in the town. This was taken August 12, 2009. The flood began Aug.6 and up to now, the road is still impassable.

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kamalayan/2860230121/

I was checking my email’s folders a while ago when I came across this sent item. It made me nostalgic. I suddenly remember my college days where I have to travel from our house in Novaliches to Sta. Mesa where I am studying. I used to take long bus rides and jeepney rides. On bad days, it takes around 2-3hours just to get home. And on good days, I sometimes get to ride with a pretty lass. This was just a few of the perks of commuting everyday.

I can relate to the story because I also eavesdrop on people conversing during the trip. I always smile and laugh privately whenever I see a couple fighting over some matters like when the girls catches the guy looking at other girls. I even tried to report to PREDA(People’s Recovery Empowerment Development Assistance) when I was commuting home to our province a father verbally abusing his son who was crying in a bus. Unfortunately, they got off in Pampanga and PREDA’s reach does not go beyond Zambales. If I were braver, I could’ve taken a video or even confronted the man. I felt sorry for the kid.

I have a lot of experience commuting back in college. Even just this last semester of the last academic year, I commuted weekly to Sta. Mesa and back to Zambales to attend
my classes as I was enrolled in PUP for my Masters in Psychology. I even get a chance to study during these long bus rides. I also used to do this on “Patok” jeepneys(the fast and plays outrageously loud music jeepneys), cramming for and exam in Abnormal Psychology while headbanging to loud Korn music.Those experiences helped shaped me as a person. I don’t know how, but at the end of the trip, I always felt satisfied. Maybe because I quench my insatiable thirst for discovering the other side of life. These experiences makes what I learn from classroom discussions on Social Psychology a reality.

But just like in the story, sometimes you get on the same ride with some you know you’ll never see again, although you wish you’d see them again. And also, I remember my girlfriend back in college. We would take the same bus going to school. I would wait for her to arrive from Bulacan on the corner of EDSA and West Ave., known as “Paramount” and we would take the bus bound for Cubao and take the jeep bound to “Stop N’ Shop.” I know it’ll never happen again and it’s not that I wish it’ll happen again. I suddenly remembered my college life. Before we get far, here’s a part of the article:

I rarely take the MRT.
I deliberately take the long route to work—by bus.
Call me crazy, but I do this for my soul: my bus rides
are the most therapeutic moments of my day. When I am
in a bus, I remember my dreams..
I look at people waiting for their rides. It is
amazing how you can measure the degree of timidity or
aggression in the people from the bus window. Some
people rush to meet the bus, certain that this bus has
the right ibabaw-ilalim configuration. Others approach
cautiously, a foot-in-the-other-foot-out expression on
their faces.
I eavesdrop on people’s conversations. There was one
girl who kept calling somebody on her cell phone.
Then I heard her saying, “Ganyan ka naman talaga, eh.
Lagi mo akong binababaan ‘pag nandiyan ang asawa mo.”
There! She was having an affair with a married man! I
have nothing against mistresses (what they do is their
choice), but this girl was obviously reckless at being
reckless!
R was—and he still is—the love of my life. I first saw
him in the library, sleeping. We were creatures of
habit, I guess. I always sat on the same table and he
would always take the table across me. We were both
there at the same time: from 1 to 4 p.m., Mondays and
Thursdays. I got into the habit of watching him frown,
watching him sleep, watching him talk animatedly to
his friends.
He became my classmate the next semester, and it was
not long before I was scalp-to-toe in love with him.
He was beautifully shy and broody, with sad eyes and
quiet ways. He had a sense of humor, too. And he was
the only person I know who could get drunk the night
before and still ace an exam.
And so I told him.
He just smiled and said nothing. It was a beautiful
silence. I was young and I gave myself license to be
foolish and crazy. I assured myself only a matter of
time before we would end up with each other, somehow.
We both graduated and found jobs.
And then a mutual friend told me he was leaving the
country for good in two weeks’ time. I was not
prepared for the way I reacted to the news. It was as
if a part of me had been wrenched, exposing a gaping
hole that I didn’t even know was there.
A week later I saw him as I was waiting for a ride. I
looked and he was there, like magic, like I wished him
out of thin air. He was smiling, walking toward me. My
heart was on wings. Destiny! I could talk to him
before he left! I suppose he saw that from the look on
my face and my smile…
But he just smiled, waved and walked toward a waiting
bus.
I bravely walked toward my bus, too. I didn’t shed a
single tear. But inside, I pondered on why we always
find ourselves on the fringes of the lives of the
people who are the front, left and center of our
lives.
We hadn’t seen each other for more than a year and we
probably wouldn’t see each other again. But the bus
was waiting and he had to catch that ride. He couldn’t
stop and talk. Just like that.
It was my longest bus ride, that trip from Diliman to
Ortigas. I thought about the stops and what I’d been
through: his silence, the waiting, the roller coaster
of emotions, his girlfriend, my replacement
relationships. It was a long stretch of highway and at
every point during those six years, I was hoping he’d
catch up with me and we’d ride off together. But he
wouldn’t even stop to say hi. The No.1 person on my
A-list wouldn’t even stop to say goodbye.
Yes, it has been a long trip and I am finally getting
off. Me and the boy with the beautiful silence—we will
never take the same bus ride. Ever.

-C.L.B.
________
Source: Youngblood, Philippine Daily Inquirer, July
14, 2001