On Waiting
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!
July 12th, 2005 at 9:06 pm
Oh, Ina! I love reading your “nonsense.” It makes me feel that I’m not alone in this pestilential city in this pestilential country on this pestilential planet!