confessions of apathy

There are ways to cope with frustration over a government that has done nothing but drag this country deeper into the pit of poverty and shame. The most popular one has been to pack and find a better life in a foreign land. Who can blame those who have taken this road? I know I don’t. Although I have thus far chosen to stay put, there is nothing noble about how I cope.

Apathy.

I’m not proud of it. And maybe writing about it is my way of finding absolution. It’s not that I woke up one day and decided I would stop caring about how the Philippines’ shameless, thick-faced leaders are ever tightening their grip around the neck of a very sick nation, choking the very life out of her for personal gain. But one can only take so much exposés by whistle-blowers, blatant self-service of so-called public servants, assassinations left and right—all assaulting the public psyche one after the other, and none finding resolution or even a semblance of justice.

Imagine the numbing effect on a citizen like myself.

But give it to our politicians to make even the most apathetic and numb flinch in disgusted awe of their ever-growing shamelessness. The other night I was enjoying my dinner of sisig when the news on TV reported that the lower house had approved House Resolution 1109  in a glaringly unconstitutional and anti-democratic move that would eventually allow the extension of the present administration’s term.

I do not claim to understand the intricacies of this political maneuver. The Palace-dwelling beneficiary of the move by administration congressmen has denied involvement. (It is disgusting how stupid they must think the public is!)  But I have to thank the House of Representatives for thawing my apathy, and for making me realize that I have, in the first place, grown apathetic.

Now I am outraged. But outrage, in itself, is unproductive. That’s why I write. That’s why I’m thankful that yesterday during our office prayer time we had the chance to pray for the issues of this country, the controversial HR 1109 and its implications included.

One cannot pray and remain indifferent. Faith and apathy cannot occupy the same space.

moving to adulthood

My sister Liza once said that you know you’re already a grown-up when you start spending more time in the home and grocery sections rather than the clothes section of the department store.

That made little sense to me in my twenties. After all, I never really spent a lot of time in the clothes section. Clothes shopping was—and still is—a chore, something I must do because I am not a nudist. I’d rather tarry where the shiny cool gadgets are, drooling over the latest electronic wonders and coveting high-priced technology.

For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine being torn between a microwave and an oven toaster; a pre-packed bag of mixed greens and a naked ball of lettuce; a blanket and a comforter. I had been content being fed by McDo, Jollibee, and Pizza Hut delivery. A homemade salad meant red egg and my housemate’s extra tomatoes. And my greatest sleep luxury was keeping company with two pillows whose cases seldom matched the bed sheet.

That was then.

Last weekend I finally made the great move—from sharing an apartment with housemates to living by myself in a small space just a stone’s throw away from work. Don’t get me wrong; I lived with great housemates, and we got along fine. (We had an unspoken rule about cleaning the house: he who can’t stand it should clean it. And, oh boy, the things we could stand!) But I just felt it was my time to move on. Besides, the overloaded MRT commute and the taxi rides had become a daily assault on my sanity (the former) and on my wallet (the latter). I longed for solitude, and I was getting weary of traversing EDSA.

The rent at the new place is quite challenging. But my Excel worksheet tells me I could pull it off if I cut down on gimik (mostly eating out) and other little luxuries. That means I will have to learn to manipulate edible matter, also know as “cooking.” Gulp.

These days I roam the home and grocery sections more often. And I’m finding it quite an adventure. Being a grown-up isn’t so bad after all.

(cpr)

I sit here at a coffee shop corner, satisfied with my plate of pasta and water in a plastic cup—no more coffee for me; I had too much of it earlier today. Around me strangers talk and sip coffee. I wonder at the wealth of stories and lives being shared all around me at this moment…

I feel tired from negotiating two train lines from the Manila hospital where I visited an aunt who just had a hysterectomy. The LRT was not as crowded as I had expected, and the clean and airconditioned train car I hopped on was… nice. How long has it been since I last boarded the LRT line? For a moment during the ride, I thought I wasn’t in Manila, but in some foreign city. The trip was actually pleasant, including the part where I got lost for a moment but quickly regained my bearings, thanks to signage. (I know.)

Maybe this little snippet from my day will help resuscitate this blog?

tagged: the big four

Gypsy has tagged me! Goodie. I’m in the mood for lists…

4 Things Meme

Here’s the rule:

Click copy/paste, type in your answers and tag four people in your blogroll! Don’t forget to change my answers to the questions with that of yours.

Question # 1. Four places I go to over and over:
Gloria Jean’s at Araneta, the string of fast food places at Philcoa, SM North EDSA, gadget stores.

Question # 2. Four people who e-mail me regularly
My staff (we’re in the same area, but email seems more convenient sometimes), Martin (missionary friend), my brother Arnel (I’m on the list of people he sends his “Lunch Break Devotions” to), and myself (I back-up important files by emailing them to another addy of mine.)

Question # 3. Four of my favorite places to eat?
Som’s (amazing Thai food–Beng’s discovery!), Sisig House (really good bad stuff ), Chocolate Kiss (memories!), Meals-to-go (really cheap food packs for the budgetarian)

Question # 4. Four places you’d rather be?
Boracay, the tidy version of my room, on a cruise, Europe

Question #5. Four TV shows I could watch over and over.
24 (I wanna be Jack Bauer when I grow up!), Battlestar Galactica (cool marries geek!), Heroes (who doesn’t like it?), Grey’s Anatomy (minus the sleeping around)

Now I’m tagging… Bijoi, Gladys, Misha, Ruben. (Click on their names on my blogroll–I’m too sleepy to do the hyperlinks! Hehe.)

quote from jim elliot

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.

-Jim Elliot, Christian martyr

why

“What would you ask God if you were face to face with Him now?”

I threw the question to an all-female audience of National Book Store staff. It was my little ice breaker during our publishing company’s product presentation to them. Anyone who would come forward to answer the question would win a copy of Philip Yancey’s Where is God When it Hurts?, one of several products we were promoting.

I was being the chirpy presenter who unleashed punch lines incessantly to sustain the audience’s interest. But the mood would change dramatically as some brave ladies shared their questions for God with misty eyes:

“Why did You take my mother away?”

“Why aren’t You granting our desire to have another child? My husband and I want one so bad…”

“Why did my premature baby have to die? If he had been born a day later he would have stood a chance…”

After they shared their very personal stories, many in the audience were dabbing their eyes with tissue. I confess, there was a growing lump in my throat too.

It’s interesting how our questions for God often begin with why. We want explanations, reasons, justifications. We long to understand. And yet, many times there are no clear answers from Him. We don’t hear a booming voice that enumerates the reasons for our circumstances. There’s no bright vision to enlighten us so we can make perfect sense of our pain.

I think of Job’s experience. He wanted answers to his why-am-I-suffering questions. Although God responded to Him audibly, He did not dish out point-blank answers. Instead God drew Job’s attention to His identity and heart, as if to say, “You do not see the whole picture. Even if I explained, you wouldn’t understand. All you need is Me. I am God, and I am with you in your pain.”

Maybe that’s not the answer we want, but the one we need.

prelude to the big c

A Christmas tune played on my shuffled iPod just now. And for the first time this year, I didn’t click to the next song. Never mind if the song was Winter Wonderland. Christmas is in the air!

No goth or gore for me this Halloween. Tonight I’ll create a Christmas playlist (complete with the choral renditions of traditional Filipino Christmas tunes) and book my December flight to Davao.

Pasko na!

bravo, housemate!

One of my housemates is a senior voice major at the UP College of Music. Since Ervin joined us in the apartment a few years ago, I have had to resort to reciting psalms in the shower instead of belting out hymns. Hehe. Ervin is a very gifted singer, but he is more than his powerful and impressive voice; the dude’s a really nice fellow, lighthearted and very humble.

A few weeks ago we all got excited for him as he told about a possible guesting at the Kapuso Network. Turned out he would be singing the finale with Kyla at the launch of GMA’s newest, high-tech studio.

His voice recital had to be re-scheduled to accommodate the guesting. In the midst of juggling preparations for his recital and rehearsals for the TV guesting, Ervin asked me if I would design his recital poster. I was all too glad to help because, well, I am a good housemate—okay, maybe I was also eager to see Zak the MacBook in action with Photoshop. I missed his recital because of my Hong Kong trip, but I heard it went well. Now I wasn’t going to miss his TV debut.

The GMA 7 event, which actually happened last Oct 17, was aired just last night. I poured myself some orange juice (Minute Maid—with real orange pulp!) and waited for the finale. Ervin is in Bacolod for the semestral break, so when his bit finally came on, I just texted him, “Telegenic!” No reply. I’m sure he was flooded with text messages from all his friends (and fans!). Tonight I got a Yahoo message from a mutual friend, with a link to a YouTube upload of Ervin’s number. (Nothing escapes YouTube!) Watching it the second time gave me goosebumps. Here it is. Enjoy!

That’s mah housemate! I better get his autograph before he becomes more famous I wonder how it felt to hold Kyla’s hand and have her sing while staring deep into your eyes…

shuffled

I usually put my iPod on shuffle mode. That’s because I am too lazy to create playlists. Many songs in my music library are not properly labeled—I have dozens of “Track 01’s” and “Track-what-nots,” and quite a number of duplications too. It’s an obsessive-compulsive person’s nightmare (or dream project?).

But even if one day, by some miracle, I find the time and will (or an OC volunteer) to organize my library into neatly-labeled playlists, I think I will still stick to shuffling songs, if only for the surprises that it brings.

Take today, for instance: On the commute to church, a song by Chris Rice found its way to me via shuffle. The song was vaguely familiar, but the honest lyrics caught my attention, especially these lines: I wake to find my soul in fragments / Given to a thousand loves… How can I be so prone to wander / So prone to leave You / So prone to die?

Bullseye. That’s me, a distracted child of God. Daily I am confronted and easily swayed by pursuits other than Him and His glory. And yet God is relentless, His love for me unchanged and undiluted by my shortcomings, abandonment, and immaturity. Like the songwriter and others before him, I wonder in amazement about this love that never lets go, never quits on me.

It’s still more than an hour before the service. But if worship is a recognition of God’s greatness and my smallness; His might and my frailty; His purity and my unworthiness apart from Christ’s work—then my worship time today has begun on that bus ride, with my iPod on shuffle mode.

Curse-reversing day of Jesus
When You finally seize my soul
Freedom from myself will be the
Sweetest rest I’ve ever known

-Chris Rice, “Prone to Wander”

in your grief

The pain rends your heart
To near-death
Your soul is torn apart
With each labored breath

All you see are the shadows
Engulfing the lights
And in despair you wallow
Fearing no end to this night

The tears keep streaming
Down your anguished face
Lost in your grieving
You hardly notice the embrace

Of the One who collects
Your tears in a bottle
See, His merciful eyes also reflect
Your sorrow and your struggle