Achieving Happiness

Kailan kaya magagawang banggitin ang katotohanan ng rebolusyon sa loob ng walang-kwentang konggresong ito? Kailan kaya mapag-uusapan ang tunay na solusyon sa mga problema ng lipunan at ng mamamayan?

Kahit mabanggit man lamang!

Nakakainis at parang lagi na lang nangingiming sabihin na may gerang sibil, isang pambansa-demokratikong rebolusyon na nangyayari sa kanayunan; na may tunggalian ng uri, na ang dahas ng estado ay dapat ding tapatan ng dahas ng mamamayan (rebolusyunaryong dahas na parang apoy na laganap sa kanayunan at may mga punla na maging sa kalunsuran; parang pinakawalang liwanag sa gitna ng tila walang-katapusang kadiliman!).

Ang kapal ng mukha ng mga miyembro ng nanghaharing uri! Kung magsalita sila, akala mo kung sinong mga tagapag-tanggol ng karapatang pantao ng mamamayan, e samantalang sila naman ang primaryang pumapatay sa taumbayan! Pinapatay, pinapaslang nila ang mga manggagawa, magsasaka, maralitang lungsod sa iba’t-ibang paraan; ginagamitan ng pisikal na dahas, sinisikil ang kanilang mga karapatan, ginigipit ang kanilang kabuhayan.

Tapos sasabihin nila kailangang baguhin ang sistema sa pamamagitan lamang ng mapayapang paraan! Sa pamamagitan daw ng pag-uusap, talakayan, mga ligal na proseso at kaparaanan!

Leche. Sabihin nga nila yan sa mga magsasakang pinapalayas mula sa kanilang mga tirahan at kakarampot na hati ng lupa. sabihin nila yan sa mga pamilya ng mga pesanteng dinampot, binaril at ibinaon sa kung saan libingan ng mga sundalo at tauhan ng mga panginoong may lupa.

Sabihin nila yan sa mga pamilya ng mga manggawang binatuta sa welga, hinataw sa ulo, binomba ng tubig, binaril at pinatay.

Wala akong makitang ibang solusyon para sa bayan na ito kundi ang rebolusyon. Ang pagpapanibagong hubog ng pag-iisip at pagsusuri, ng pag-unawa sa lipunan at sa pagtangan ng mga tungkulin na makiisa sa mga inaapi at isulong ang kanilang interes SA LAHAT NG POSIBLENG PARAAN.

Naaalala ko ang isang Kasama noong nasa kolehiyo pa ako. Sabi nya sa akin, nakaririmarim daw ang naghaharing sistema, at animo’y isa itong halimaw na dapat tarakan ng patalim sa dibdib at pugutan ng ulo.

Tutoo, tutoo, tutoo.

Noon nadudurog pa ang puso ko sa ideyang kailangang dumanak ng dugo bago magkaroon ng pagbabago. pero naisip ko din, sa ngayon, tanging ang dugo ng masang Pilipino ang kumakalat sa kanayunan at sa kalunsuran - unti-unting pinapatay habang pinagkakaitan sila ng mga batayang serbisyong panlipunan tulad ng edukasyon, kalusugan, pabahay; habang sila’y sinasakal ng sobrang taas na presyo ng mga bilihin at mga batayang pangangailangan.

Kailangang ang dugo ng nagsasamantala ang dumanak. Silang mga nagpapasasa sa paghihirap ng nakararami- silang kung mag salita ay akala mo kung ano na ang ginawa para sa bayan samantalang sila din ang mga magnanakaw, malalaking kriminal, berdugo at kawatan!

Ang init ng ulo ko ngayon. Bwiset.

I admit it, I’m a Tom Cruise fan. Well, maybe not a fan-FAN, but I do think that he’s more than just a pretty face. I really do think he can act, and it’s just so sad that  the various award-giving bodies in the US do not think much of his acting ability– at least not enough to give him a trophy or at least a citation. Sure, he’s not of the same calibre as, say, John Malcovich, but he’s better than Nicholas Cage and on par with Val Kilmer.

I haven’t read a single movie review about any of Mr. Cruise’s movies, none that have given proper notice or comment regarding his ability to project his character’s contradictions and internal difficulties on screen. Maybe most reviewers can’t see beyond the drop-dead gorgeous facade…

Actually, it was only the other night that I’ve acknowledged that the man can actually act. I watched Jerry Maguire, and it was not of the typical brainless Hollywood formula that makes one want to throw rocks against the screen and rip the cushy theater seats to shreds. It was a good film, straightforward and a little predictable, but good all the same (yeah, yeah, I’m like a decade late; but what the heck, better late than never),. O appreciate the film’s attempts at delivering a specific message of keeping one’s humanity intact amidst a materialistic, power-driven and money-oriented world, one’s priorities in life in a straight line.

Mr. Cruise was not annoying, his portrayal of a man trying to redeem himself was not cloying, and his physical beauty was not distracting at all (maybe a little). He should, I think, be given better roles — roles where he doesn’t have to be beautiful or well-dressed and predictably cute; but I guess most producers think his best selling point is his face. Sheesh. Just because he’s cuter than Sean Penn or Benicio del Torro doesn’t mean he can’t act as well as they.

(Nicole Kidman won an an Oscar for playing Virginia Woolfe complete with prosthetic nose. She wasn’t exactly beautiful there, but her portrayal had the elements of  vintage Kidman –luminous. Did she win because the bodies think she was great, or because she was wilingly to ‘uglify’ herself? Go figure. )

Just a random idea here — good looking people are often though off to be not as smart as their less physically gifted peers. Strange. It’s like to be both beautiful and gifted is a  rare occurence in nature. I guess it all depends on one’s idea of what’s physically beautiful.

These days, there are two things that have my attention in a death-grip: politics and soap-operas.

Politics, well, the latest is that Fidel V. Ramos and/or Renato de Villa are planning a military-led take-over and establish a military junta the moment Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is kicked out of office. This gives me the willies, but mostly it makes so totally angry. What right have these idiots to take-over the country? Ramos has had his turn and he made a freaking mess of it, plunging the country into liberalization hell. As for de Villa, well, another military strong man/fascist/idiot.

I could go on and on ranting and raging over the insane and fast-paced developments in the political arena of this forsaken country, but I won’t. grrrrrr. check anakpawis_news/geocities.com or whatever the website is (I never can remember that blasted website name) for my rants tranformed into news releases bwahahaha.

So that’s it for the politics. Am off to Ayala later! (strange that the rallies are being held in the business capital of the country, and the participants are comprised mostly of the exploited and downtrodden. Go figure.

Anyways, on to the next thing. Soap operas.

Full House is all about waiting and waiting and waiting.

You wait for someone and chances are you love that person.

Wait as in anticipate, look forward to, longing in spades. Longing that fills stadiums and is colored in blazing yellow, fire and ice and warmth and cold and uneasiness and bliss. Waiting as a most concrete expression of love.

Lee Young-jae waits for Han Ji-eun, andvice-versa, but they hate having the other know about all the waiting each of them keeps doing when the other is out. The tension, the annoyance, the utter despair of seeming eternities passing, the waiting and waiting.

If I had more time, I’d write a treatise on soaps. I hate Pinoy soaps, though. Everyone is exasperating — from the weepy, martyr-protagonists to the exceedingly evil antagonists. Black and white characterization, predictable plot and crashingly-boring conclusions. Ho-hum.

I’m currently on the prowl for the DVDs of Meteor Garden 1 &2.

High on mush and humor content.

When I was in college, Nova and I kept as bibles all of Carrie Fisher’s books — "Surrender the Pink," "Postcards from the Edge," "Delusions of Gramma." While everyone else in the Collegian were trying to up each other’s IQ points and raving about "The Name of the Rose" and "Foucault’s Pendulum," Nova and I were reading pop-psychology fiction and using as guideposts neurotic insights of a former druggie/Princess Leia.

I guess that’s when it started. Elias says I’m bonkers for trying to anlyze love.

Yeah, well, Jeannette Winterson has won a BookerPrize doing the exact same thing. (this blog is going haywire, but what the heck — if you read this O great benefactor whoever you are, please buy me Jeanette’s "The Power Book" and I will be indebted to you for life and I will shine your shoes whenever we meet, I swear. The book costs P700 I think…)

yet another rushed piece. oh for time to stand still so i coud write more nonsense!

Often I still wonder how the heck I  ended up being part of the Kilusang Mapagpalaya. I mean, I know myself quite, quite well — am very self-aware — and so I’m amazed how I’m still here.

These days the entire nation is in an uproar over the corruption of an immoral and illegitimate presidency. For the last month, the newspapers and current events-websites have been filled with reports as to how President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo cheated herself to Malacanang, manipulating the May 10, 2004 polls. Her infamous poll-fraud having been recorded on tape: her conversations with Comelec commissioner Virgilio Garcillano having been wire-tapped (the tapes are now known as the "Hello, Garci?" tapes).

Almost daily there are rallies and demonstrations as educational institutions, cause-oriented groups and various other organizations opposing corruption and demanding immediate political reforms express and even shout out their demand for the removal of Pres. Arroyo from power, etc etc etc.

you get the drift.

As for myself, well, i write the statements during the day, but at night I watch telenovellas. After finishing Lovers in Paris, I’ve moved on to "FullHouse." The story is quite different from LIP, but it’s as compelling. Actually, I relate to it more because the leads are younger, and the plot is funnier.

So what am i trying to say?

Only this crazy admission that left to my devices and if I had no political or social conscience at all (grumble, grumble. Darn it), I would be lying at home, camped out on the sofa watching Korean telenovellas (or even those from Taiwan, am not picky at this juncture) and eating junkfood.

I miss being creative. I miss writing poetry, I miss writing short stories. I feel so empty and ashen inside because of my neglect of the things I love most for myself. Not that I’m really complaining against the Kilusan, (not at al!!!), I’m just, well, wistful. I wish I had more time - to watch movies, to read fiction, to write fiction, to daydream and to create. Everytime I get down to begin a story, whoooosh,something comes up and I have to read newspapers again and tinker with concepts and ideas and analysis. I miss imagining things and describing a world of my own making.

The thing is, I watch the soaps because they allow me escape. what’s new with that? sheesh.

For the last week, every morning and every night I’ve watched "Before Sunset" by Richard Linkletter, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Well, I con’t exatly watch the entire thing, every day, just segments of it.

Particularly the part where Julie Delpy’s character Celine plays the guitar for Ethan Hawke’s Jesse, and the piece is a waltz.

Celine’s song is a memory in melody. How she felt about this "one night thing" she had and how much she wants one more try, one more night with the person because he, Jesse is the name she sings, was what, that night, what she had always dreamt of in life.

As she sings it, as the words flow out of her, she smiles, she is saddened in quicksilver changes. The memory of that night and the hundreds more lost after it because the person she shared that night with was, she thought, forever gone and removed from her. It was an exercise in viewing fragility, strength and the tenacity of memory for me. She is an amazing actress, Julie Delpy.

The song is quite short, two minutes tops, but it so touches me because i remember feeling the exact same way the song flowed. Happy and light but, with a meloncholy content imbedded within.

As for Jesse, he sits there, among the sofa cushions, and his face is a revelation as he looks at Celine and watches her, listens to her song. He has the expression of a slowly drowning man suddenly saved. He smiles, laughs with such relief. He was lost, but now he has found the one thing he was looking for for so long and now he will find himself and his way forward, away from emptiness.

Sheewiz. Am such a romantic it’s disgusting.