Achieving Happiness

Okay. So I put this picture of Big Bird in this entry because I wanted to be cheerful when I am anything but. What I actually am  is pissed off.

Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s just a ploy, maybe he has something creative, clever and ultimately principled up his sleeve but hell if I wasn’t upset by the news report that Alan Peter Cayetano has pledged support for the economic legislative agenda of the Macapagal-Arroyo administration.
Hey, maybe it’s something he ate yesterday. Or there was some odd cloud formation that emitted weird radiation and it affected his brain temporarily. In whichever case, I was do disappointed by Sen. Alan’s declaration. It was something I did not expect from the guy I practically begged my relatives to vote for (kahit may mga nagtaka because they all know that I essentially don’t believe in elections yet there I was making a pitch for Cayetano and bullying my relatives to make sure that they spell out his complete name A-L-A-N  P-E-T-E-R Cayetano so the vote doesn’t go to the fake candidate.)
So much for the political polarization we witnessed during the elections. Sen. Aquilino Pimenetel’s explanations on how the Senate is divided into the majority and the minority were more than enough to make me sick.  Now it’s back to the dirty old business of wheeling, dealing, and exchanging one political compromise for another.  Someone get me a barf bag, now na.
—-
It’s awful how by the hour the chances of Koko Pimentel becoming senator becomes slimmer. Next to Cayetano, he was the one I lobbied with my relatives for. Unbelievable that Migz Zuburi will take the 12th seat. The man is like a dandelion weed. Don’t even let me get started on the hypocrisy of his freakin’ Biofuels Act.
"Thank God democracy will still prevail in this country." "Where’s Audrey, where’s Audrey?"
Ewwwwe.
—

This is why it’s never a good idea to pin hopes on politicians. They are never beholden to their voters (the Filipino people) but always, always to whoever is more powerful and will help them become more so themselves. Personal gain and personal interest always enter the picture (actually, it IS the picture) and in the end it’s the Filipino people who are left in the dirt. It’s compromise for the sake of something bigger and self-serving.
What’s worse? Most Filipinos are divorced from the entire process legislative process. They are not aware of how exactly laws are passed, and hence most politicians at the local level are never made accountable for their crimes of bypassing or voting against measures that aim to give concrete aid and benefit to constituents. And am not talking about giving the occasional school room or waiting shade a new coat of paint.
—

My mom’s bestfriend is in the country (she’s based in Washington DC) and is working on a project here for three months.
I’ve known Tita Agnes all my life and many of the books that I grew up and loved were gifts from her.
We’ve never had serious conversations about life or issues, but the other day over coffee and cake I couldn’t help but blurt out how the Human Security Act will be implemented next month and that’s she’ll be here to witness the chaos.
Of course I didn’t intent to scare her or make her panic. She didn’t anyway, but she did ask what the heck the HSA was and I, suddenly fired up, told her.
She shook her head and said how strange it was that nothing changed in the Philippines politically, and how it seemed that things have actually become worse.
Understatement of the century. I turned my laptop on and showed her a report on the AFP’s attempts to absolve themselves of the responsibility for the abduction of Jonas Burgos.
"The more things change in this country, the more things stay the same."

—

The BFAD issues a warning against buying food made in China. Uh-oh. It’s like everything’s made and grown in China these days. My journals (even the ones friends brought from Europe) are made in China.

Paano na ang aking champoy and kiamoy habit?!

—

Am in an internet cafe and next to me is a deafmute girl who is using the webcam to communicate with her friend. I can sense and see her out of the corner of my eye gesticulating happily in sign language, smiling and laughing silently. Sometimes when she’s particularly happy or excited about something (gossip? sharing  about a boyfriend?) she practically jumps out of her seat in exuberance, her hand and fingers weaving stories out of thin air, and everything is captured on camera, the images beaming through wire to wherever to her friend who, I bet, is also laughing and also conjuring long narratives with her hands.

I love technology.

—

FIVE HOURS LATER

Sonny Trillanes calls Migz Zubiri a cheat and says he (Trillanes) doesn’t want to work with a cheat. (!!!). Zubiri retorts that the accusation was most unfair and says that he and his lawyers are mulling over filing libel charges. Hilarious! Totally made my day. Sen. Trillanes is clearly not one to mince words. I mean hey, the man has been incarcerated for three years now — he owes no one nothing, and Zubiri is only making Trillanes even more famous than he already is he does file charges (and in turn, Migz is making himself appear more of a fluffy idiot).

Been trolling the net regarding the various anti-terrorism law versions all over the world and I have a pounding headache from staring at the monitor too long.

I wrote a long blog yesterday about the bribery scandal involving the Commission on Appointments, but thanks to the sudden power interruption, the entire rant was deleted. Oh well.
Tomorrow AGHAM will hold a forum on the Human Security Act (HSA) of 2007 and what possible technological means and methods the government and police/military authorities will employ to spy on their suspects and targets.
I’m an avid fan of the CSI series of shows, especially CSI Las Vegas; and in truth, under vastly different political and social circumstances (completely different system of government and orientation of the police forces), I wouldn’t mind if the government had the technological and legal ability to track down people and suspects whenever necessary.  Like, say, during emergencies; or when there’s a brutal crime perpetrated and the killer must be immediately apprehended.
Kaso nga, well, TV reality is different from actual reality and what we have is a government that will not stop at anything to crush political dissent by any means– regardless of how many activists have to die, and regardless of how all laws protecting civil, political and human rights are mangled and stuffed down the toilet like bloody wadded newspapers.

I’ve read the Human Security Act draft and though I’m not a lawyer, I have enough background on what constitutes my rights to know that this law, the HSA, undermines all my rights under the guise of protecting the country against the scourge of terrorism. Suspects can be detained beyond three days without being charged. If freed on bail, suspects will not be allowed to travel or can be placed under house arrest (nag bail ka pa) without access to internet, landline or cellular communication. Warrants from courts will no longer necessary — only a written approval for arrest from a human rights commission. Get this, it’s not THE Human Rights Commission, but ANY HR commission from the city, municipal or regional level. LGUs are currently being tasked with establish HR desks, and no, it’s not so they can monitor HR violations, but I think in preparation for their role in implementing the HSA: stamp pads for the issuance of warrants of arrests of suspect.
Am I personally afraid of the HSA? Yes I am. I have every reason to be so. I don’t buy the tripe that the HSA was crafted to legally arm the police and the military to go after terrorists groups such as the ASG, Jemaah Islamiyah or the Al-Qaeda it was crafted with the direct intent of going after political activists who advocate a change in government, in the administration through legal and democratic means. The HSA is meant to be a weapon against political dissent, against those who accost the government for its despicable failure to address the economic needs of Filipinos; those who expose these failures; and those who condemn the government for the over 800 extrajudicial killings and its refusal to hold the AFP accountable for the deaths.
It’s really that simple.
The HSA draft is along and convoluted draft that should strike fear (and anger) in the hearts all freedom loving Filipinos. It’s martial law without the actual declaration, and worse.

What is terrorism? This question
remains sufficiently unanswered  by those who continue to sound the
alarm and support the so-called war against terrorism. This very lack
of a clear definition must be done away with if the incumbent
government can even begin to have the right to assert the necessity
to address terrorism and recommend the measures by which to stop it.

What is the objective of the Arroyo government?
Besides pleasing the US government by doing its bidding that  the Philippines pass an anti-terrorism law patterned after the US’ Patriot Act, the Arroyo government seeks to silence its critics, put an end to the civil protests without having to give in to the legitimate and righteous demands, and to pave the way for constitutional amendments that will give Arroyo and other officials like Jose de Venecia a clear shot at being prime minister.

I am not comforted any by the announcement recently issued by officials of the Philippine National Police (PNP) that they are conducting training sessions on the HSA and giving the rank and file a thorough grounding on the what the law covers and how its supposedly aims to protect civilians.

Utang na loob. The PNP uses truncheons and teargas on student protestors calling for tuition fee rollbacks. How the hell am I suppose to trust them to respect and protect my rights?!

If the government were sincere in fighting terrorism, then it should overhaul the military and create a fighting force free from corruption and mercenary tendencies and who will do their duty of  going after the real terrorists and criminals.

But then, gad, how can a terrorist government genuinely fight against terrorists?

—-

The newly-opened Trinoma mall’s architecture beats SM City and Mall of Asia’s any day.

Last week Walkie and Edre and I walked around Trinoma and agreed that if weren’t for the massive volume of people, the place was a cool place to hang out. The fountains and stone and bamboo garden were very Zen, and encouraged contemplation; kaso nga, there were so many people, particularly loud and giggly teenagers.

Have been compelled to stay on as Ka Bel’s chief of staff. So that puts an end to my other hopes and plans (haha).

—

Kim is afraid of the boogeyman. I almost ruptured a few vital organs laughing last night when he begged me to close the closet door because he was worried that something big and scary would come out and grab him, drag him from the bed and take him inside the dark recesses of the closet and, well, eat him.

My husband can be so cute when he doesn’t intend to be.

It’s strange how this has come about: since I got married,  I have stopped writing about love. It is as if as if having found it — having obtained the object of my affection and said object has reciprocated by calling me his own — the need to express love other than through the three usual words, to write about it, describe it and how it feels to be in its throes (or the opposite — to be abandoned by it) — the need and compulsion to write about it has disappeared.
Actually it hasn’t.
Only the object of affection is not to sort to rhapsodize. He is not syrupy sweet, he is not romantic, he will not take a symbolic dagger to his heart should I turn away and give him the cold shoulder. Flowers, he says, are cliched, and chocolates cause cavities.

Instead he will send me an SMS later in the day — just when I’ve begun to feel most unwanted and neglected and unloved after a whole morning of silence and seeming indifference — to tell me that he will buy me a blender so we can stay at home and make banana shakes. Then when I come home, he tells me to sit on the couch where he will take off my shoes and socks, then rub my feet until I feel almost sleepy but happy.This is how he loves.
When I was still single, I used to write volumes and volumes in my journals. Journals because I kept more than one; often two or three at time, each with a different cover, texture of paper, reflecting different aspects of my nature and how I viewed the world and my life at the time I picked up my pen  and poured my confusion/happiness/anger/frustration/mushiness out.
I also wrote letters. Some of them I sent, many I kept hidden. Others I tore up but couldn’t throw away because of how alive (even if sad and despairing) I felt when I wrote the words they contained.
Now, well, all my journals contain now are generic entries: gave my dog a bath. Ate a donut and finished this or that novel. Cleaned the house and am so exhausted.
I send email, and they’re short and abrupt. Expressions of affection are in the form of generic emoticons.
I am suddenly worried that I have let go of some piece of what made me me before I got married: a part of me that fell in love and felt woozy and tingly and corny inside. The part of me that was touched to the quick by Adrienne Rich’s ‘Stepping Backward’ and whose heart was impatient with longing for the sight of the beloved (unlike now when my heart is impatient with annoyance when the beloved is late for dinner).
Resolved to bring back poetry into my life, and to not take for granted the moments I spend with the object of my affection just because there’s an endless number of them. I will also learn to appreciate how he expresses his affection (stepping away from his math problems to make me tea when I’m downstairs watching tv; the sudden bear hug  and I am lifted off my feet slightly scared but laughing all the same), and not hope for more showy displays. I too  love quietly and in secret, but perhaps once again I can love loudly and in color, if only in words  (am more expressive on paper than in person).
____

And when we come into each other’s rooms
Once in awhile, encumbered and self-conscious,
We hover awkwardly about the threshold
And usually regret the visit later.
Perhaps the harshest fact is, only lovers–
And once in a while two with the grace of lovers–
Unlearn that clumsiness of rare intrusion
And let each other freely come and go.
Most of us shut too quickly into cupboards
The margin-scribbled books, the dried geranium,
The penny horoscope, letters never mailed.
The door may open, but the room is altered;
Not the same room we look from night and day.

-From Stepping Backward.

—-

I am happy about the controversy over the infant formula industry and whether is illegal for it to promote itself through massive public advertising campaigns. I Hope that the Supreme Court imposes a complete ban against these ad campaigns and instead uphold breastfeeding as mandatory for mothers with babies; and mandatory for doctors to strongly recommend breastfeeding.

I don’t have kids, but I do have a significant number of nieces and nephews (and two of my best friends have kids — Walkie, Nova)  and I do worry about the milk they take.
Walkie is a staunch breastfeeding advocate. Three or four years ago she even made me attend a nutrition seminar at her house wherein the guest lecturer succeeded in scaring the pants off me by saying the evil effects of cow milk and infant formula (derivatives of cow and chemicals, eow) on babies’ digestive systems and over all health.
I have not forgotten. I still get the shivers.
It’s all about making money. The infant milk formula companies promote their products by saying the milk will promote intelligence, increase immunity against childhood diseases, and "Your kids will be so bibo they’ll end up on tv just like the models on our tv ads!"
Yeah, just shell out P600 per 1 kilogram can and wait for your baby to develop digestion problems, the least being gas and stomach cramps. I was also told that drinking cow’s milk CAN CAUSE BONE PROBLEMS.
On the other hand, there are no arguments against mothers’ milk. None.
Moms! If you can breastfeed, do it. There’s nothing more important than making sure that during the first three years of your baby’s life ALL their nutrition needs are met, and this can be if you breastfeed.
I’m a menopausal baby, born premature. I lived the first month of my life outside my mom inside an incubator, and lived on formula milk. My mom still apologizes for this (which is funny, but touching all the same. I tease her that my inability to comprehend math as a language is due to that ‘neglect.’).
—-
The military top brass, seems to me, is completely freaked by Antonio Trillanes IV’s victory. It’s a wonder the likes of Esperon and Ebdane do not spontaneously combust in shame and embarrassment over it — the rebel soldier they tried to crush by keeping him jailed refused to crack, ran for the senate, and won! Now the 35-year old (signs of a small crush here…) is saying that he will call for senate investigations into the involvement of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) into the extrajudicial killings of journalists and activists.
Whether he is able to hold office in the senate premises or stays in his cell, I’m willing to bet that so long as he stays on track and keeps true to the advocacy that won him the support of over 10 million voters, Sen. Trillanes will be able to perform his tasks as a legislator effectively. I mean, his kind of idealism (kahit militar siya, and I hate the military as a rule), must count for something; and the media will always consider him hot copy.
—
Three weeks back I had after-dinner tea with Nova and Elias. Now I’ve known Elias since forever (1993), and I always thought of him intelligent, cute, but a boring dresser. He used to wear these generic Giordano shirts, khaki or serge golfing shorts and Topsiders day in, day out. After college, he resorted to these flowing Hawaiian shirts (he was first to wear them, I think — even before Raul Roco or Lito Atienza) and, shivers, collected them ("Look at this, the flowers have electric cathodes for pistils…")
Now, well, talk about a major transformation in looks! He lost weight, lost the ugly shirts, and he’s now going about his business in vintage tees, fashionably faded or equally fashionably slightly acid-washed jeans, and sneakers. Like I told Nova (which in turn made her cringe. Actually, ako din ngayon medyo naduduwal), Elias looks hot.
I mean, after years of looking like a goofy salesman for the Flower Farm.
The best thing about this is that Elias feels much better about himself. He’s always been a nerd ("I chose this watch because it has a calculator and it glows in the dark!"), but at least now he doesn’t look like one. He feels more confident  (but not mayabang at all) and happier ("Shopping is interesting, I’ve realized).
Three cheers for outwardly transformations that have inwardly impact!
—
I’ve been told that there were some comments about my previous blog about my friend Edre; comments regarding his credibility (um, ang seryoso  ng ibang tao…) so I thought I’d settle the issue here:
I actually had a  hard time dissuading Edre from his implementing his spittle attack  plan on the Eduardo  Ermita’s  picture.  It was like being in a championship patintero match and the pressure was on.
I followed him around the exhibition area pulling at his arm. I walked backwards, always facing him and muttering ‘"Hwag na, hwag na, walang prop value yan…" while for his part, he kept saying "Walang tao, it’s ok, isang dura lang, galit lang ako…"
I think we walked around the area at least three or four times. He would not be convinced to leave.
There was no pretty girl on the escalator . I wrote that  because, well, it’s a funnier ending to an anecdote; and its’ an Edre-kind-of-thing to be distracted by a pretty girl (in his defense, he says that this isn’t an Edre-specific characteristic).
Fact:  I managed to finally dissuade him by telling him that we could go to the National Bookstore branch on the ground level of the mall and buy a Sharpie, go back to the picture and vandalize it. I suggested a mustache like Hitler’s and a few black, rotted teeth. He wanted to add horns.
"Sure, sure, whatever you want.."
As we walked toward the escalator, a security guy came out of the nearby john and assumed his post at one corner of the exhibit area. That’s what put an end to Edre’s saliva agenda.

Hung out with my friend Atty. Edre Olalia last weekend, and we saw this exhibition on the supposed 20 Most Important Men (or something like that) in the country today at the Shangri-La in Ortigas.
We were guffawing over how Piolo Pascual was included in the list, but Edre became livid when he saw that Executive Sec. Eduardo Ermita’s picture was also there.
Had to exert a measure of force to stop him from spitting at Ermita’s visage.I said it was a waste of spit, and also, spit doesn’t stick. It would be a different matter if he were to, uh, accidentally throw up all over Ermita’s portrait (he had just finished eating California Maki; we could say that that the articifial Kani was spoiled); but spitting isn’t effective.
"Edre," I said, "You are not a camel."
"I don’t care. He’s one of those in charge of the extrajudicial killings campaign of the AFP."
"Tell me something I don’t know."
"There’s no one looking."
"There’s a guard here, somewhere. How embarrassing if you got caught spitting!"
"There’s no law against that; that’s not a crime. Just let me hawk up a little phlegm…"
He was visibly upset. Understandable how his anger and outrage is easily triggered by something like a mere picture of a government official. As a human rights lawyer, he is inundated day in and day out with cases and reports of atrocities being perpetrated by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) against civilians and members of the progressive party-lists and people’s organizations.
If I were ever sickened and saddened by the killings, imagine how the lawyers of these victims feel. Next to the families themselves of the victims, its the HR groups and their lawyers who are most burdened by the grief and outrage and need to demand justice for the murdered.
Edre works till he is almost blinded by exhaustion, and if spitting at Ermita’s picture (or Raul Gonzalez’, Norberto Gonzales’ or Hermogenes Esperon’s for that matter) would take away some of his exhaustion and stress, then maybe I should have let him have a go.
But I didn’t. I wished, instead, that I had with me a thick black marker or even a stick of black glitter Krazy Glu. Kaso wala e.
Edre kept circling Ermita’s picture like a wolf closing in on its prey, but I stood in front of the picture and pulled him away.
"Isang dura lang, sige na…"
And so on and on until I managed to distract him by pointing to a pretty girl walking up the escalator.

Gee whiz. I just spent an hour checking out the PEP website and read gigabytes worth of gossip.

Ruffa Gutierrez admits to being married to some guy before she tied the knot with Yilmaz Bektas.

Gretchen Barreto caught in a lip-lock with John Estrada.

Wo-hoh! These issues are so, so, interesting. There is really nothing more interesting than people’s lives. I don’t what it makes me, but I enjoy reading showbiz gossip. It distracts me from the real world, and I’m grateful for any entertaining and amusing distraction.

Last Saturday I went with Walkie to the Powerbooks in the newly-opened Trinoma mall, and was so lucky with my find: a harbound collection of 100 stories by Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t believe my luck- it cost me all of P99. That means P1 per story!

I had to keep checking the price tag to make sure it said P99.00 and not P999. Up to the moment Walkie and I left the store, I was afraid that the cashier or some other salesperson would run after me and tell me that they made a mistake.

More later, gotta run.

Paghandaan ang kampanya laban sa Human Security Act!

Crazy duo Ariel and Maverick ambushed Ka Bel yesterday at the Philippine Heart Center and spent most of the afternoon asking him insane questions (okay, some of them were reasonable and intelligent) and Ka Bel quite gamely answered them.
The staff and crew of ‘Tutoo TV’ on ABC 5 were the first people outside the Movement (actually, among the among the first people, period) to ever hear Ka Bel sing. Yep, Ariel and Maverick were able to convince Ka Bel to sing. He warbled about six lines of ‘Sumulong ka, Anakpawis,’ and we were all shocked and delighted.
The two out of this world ‘journalists’ then accompanied Ka Bel to congress and quizzed him about his life, advocacy, and why the hell he let himself be arrested by the police when he could have just socked them on the jaw and punched their lights out?
After the serious discussions which took place in Ka Bel’s office (the first time he was there since he was arrested) on the sixth floor, the three of them proceeded to do some boxing, with Ka Bel giving them some pointers.


The results of the entire crazy afternoon will be telecast on Monday, June 11, 2007 at 7pm over at ABC-5.

I wish I could get a transcript of the entire episode. I wonder if we could do a translation, in subtitles? Ka Bel’s supporters in the international community will go positively nuts.
Ka Bel’s sense of humor has never been so evident as during yesterday’s Q&A. I think he held well on his own against Ariel and Maverick.

Exhausting but completely triumphant day yesterday as Ka Bel was allowed by the Makati Regional Trial Court Branch 150 under Judge Elmo Alameda to leave the confines of his detention room at the Philippine Heart Center and go to the House of Representatives and participate in the final session days of the 13th Congress.
Almost got mauled by the throng of reporters and photo-journalists who swarmed forward for interviews when Ka Bel got out of the PHC ambulance where we rode from the hospital; but it was funny all the same. Some photogs sustained scratches and one even tore his shirt.
Am grateful to the media for making all the coverage (and the well-wishes and congratulatory messages).
Kahit hindi pa kumpletong malaya si Ka Bel (and there may be chance that this issue will still drag for a longer while because the %^$&^% Department of Justice and the office of the solicitor general intends to file an appeal against the SC decision), it’ s still a good and happy thing that he was allowed to attend the closing session of congress.
Hundreds of friends, supporters and well-wishers were there and clapped long and hard when Ka Bel entered the session hall along with the other progressive lawmakers of Bayan Muna, Anakpawis and Gabriela Women’s Party.
Ka Bel and his wife Ka Osang have previously been reported in the media as being sorely tried thinking of where to get the money to pay their hospital bills. Kahit ilang beses silang ire-assure, they are still worried. Hay.
Am also tickled pink that ABS-CBN 2 and GMA7 used the short footage I took with my digital camera of Ka Bel and Ka Osang monkeying around and pretending to box each other and then hugging and laughing.
Before we all left for congress, the nurse had to  take Ka Bel’s blood pressure and it was rather high. All thoughout yesterday’s excitement, he had to take a total of 5 Catapress tablets to keep his blood pressure from shooting to the roof.

Longer entry later as I have to do more errands.

——–
Was shocked (and, sadly, not shocked at the same time) to read about the two farmers – rightful agrarian reform beneficiaries—being
shot dead by security guards at the
Hacienda Velez-Malaga in La Castellana, Negros Occidental. Farmers Alejandro
Garcisa and Ely Tupaz, both members of Task Force Mapalad and among its 57
members who were ‘awarded’ the right to till the land. The local police chief said that the shooting began
after guards stood in the way of some 50 farmers who were attempting to enter the five-hectare area where they were
installed by Department of Agrarian Reform in previous months.

Wala talagang nagbabago.

—

The implementation of the First Party Rule will deny Bayan Muna one of its rightful seats in Congress. Pagkatapos igapang, ipaglaban ng daan-daang tagasuporta, ipagkakait ang isang opisina sa BM. It’s freaking unfair and my brain can’t wrap itself around this very dire possibility.

—

I will not be Ka Bel’s chief of staff next 14th Congress. Much as I love Ka Bel and Anakpawis, am so…sick and tired (was thinking of some other, more graceful way of putting it, but it is what it is) of working in this arena that the thought of staying here day in, day out for another 3 years (!) makes the bile rise in my throat and I have to stop myself from hacking like Billy the Cat in  those Burke Breathed ‘Bloom County’ cartoons.

I am filing an application with the Center for Trade Union and Human Rights and am hoping they’ll take me in again (I used to handle their radio program ‘Buhay Manggagawa’, from 1988 to 2002). I don’t want to be stuck inside an office for another three years.

Also, I want to be able to, well, write about other things. I mean, the same things, but not the same things.

To be truthful, I didn’t work hard at building a relationship with my erstwhile publisher in Hong Kong News because I didn’t want to be unable to leave. I returned to the Philippines because of Ka Bel, and now that the bad tide is turning and Ka Bel may well be released before the end of June, I’m thinking I could go off and do something else again.

Best news I’ve heard in a long, long while: the Supreme Court junks the rebellion charges against the progressive party-list lawmakers. I would scream with happiness if I wasn’t also wary; nakakadala ang gobyernong ito. The SC has laid down a just and very well-written  (biting and acerbic in all the right places) decision; but I would much rather do my celebrating once Ka Bel is actually released — meaning he’s free to walk out of his detention hospital room at the Philippine Heart Center without a phalanx of CIDG agents trailing him.
Justice secretary Raul Gonzalez has so far refrained issuing any  sarcastic rebuttals against the SC decision that had a few choice swipes against the DOJ and those who facilitated Ka Bel’s arrest February 25 last year.  Let’s all cross our fingers that he does shut up about it.
We are all looking forward to Monday. We expect Ka Bel to be freed by then.
This afternoon he was cheerful and relieved, and he was swamped by visitors (more than usual, I mean). Everyone was happy, but at the core of it all, like an atom of bitter in much sweet, they were also cautious, afraid of being yet again betrayed and disappointed by this government who has previously reneged on its earlier decision to allow Ka Bel’s release upon the prodding of the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU).
The Beltran family — the wife and the children — are thinking of filing charges against the Macapagal-Arroyo government, particularly the DOJ officials and staff who had him arrested on the strength of  lapsed warrant. Needless to say, there is no end to the family’s outrage. They demand indemnification for grievous moral damages.
Anyways!
It’s really hard to keep on the light-hearted side of things, especially when it comes to the doings of this incumbent illegitimate government. It’s one long series of injustices after another.
But the idea of Ka Bel being released is such a happy thought. We are looking forward to Monday. He is 74 years old, and he continues to fight against social injustice and for genuine freedom and democracy in the Philippines. Hindi talaga lokohan o biruan ang labang ito.
—-

The Booksale branch in Star Mall along EDSA corner Shaw Boulevard has an amazing stock. I brought Carrie Fisher’s ‘The Best Awful’ and Maxine Hong Kingston’s biographical ‘The Woman Warrior’  and I can’t get wait to get at them.
When I was in college , my friend Nova and I considered Carrie Fisher our own personal guru. We would quote her quirky, self-deprecating and ultimately painful observations about life and failure at , eherm, love and longing and often find similarities between our own lives and the experiences of her (Carrie’s) characters who were, for the most part, successful, intelligent people who did not know how to life with their success and often, well, fucked up because they THOUGHT and analyzed about the people closest to them way too much.
(I guess that also says a lot about how we were when Nova and I were 17 year olds, heck. Loser types).

I have a few journals wherein I I wrote paragraphs taken from these Fisher books and ruminated on them. Thankfully, I stopped doing this oh, when I was 24 or 25. I mean, heck, what does it mean when you empathize with characters who are often so messed up that they end up in the hospital having their stomachs pumped from taking too many painkillers; or characters that hide behind the japonica to spy on their ex-boyfriends?
Not that I ever took drugs or spied on any of my ex-boyfriends. I admit, however, to being a fan of Flanax and to ignoring the hell out of ex-boyfriends (saves me the embarrassment of having to acknowledge my failures, sheesh)…

Why do we take so much comfort from books?
I mean,  why the heck do I take so much comfort from reading? I mean, it’s plain scary how sometimes I feel a certain way (blue, angry, in-between angry and sad) and to cope with the disturbance and imbalance I flip though pages of books I’ve read way way before in search of a particular passage, a certain observation, the description of a passing moment or a life-altering event in the life of imagined people.

I am finding an explanation for my self and how I feel. I want a shape and form to the shapeless and formless scream that’s trapped inside me.

Tapos, I feel sane again.
I suppose it’s because of this: It comforts me to know that even  in my lowest hours when happiness is a far gone memory and hope is a kite flying beyond my grasp  because the string  itself was cut off, I am not alone. Somebody else felt as messed up (or even more messed up)as I do.