Archive for September 24th, 2009

More Than Cloth

More Than Cloth

It’s just a piece of cloth.  The Flag has been used for everything from jackets to social networking avatars to computer wallpaper to boxer shorts and yes, boxers’ shorts.  Yet the difference between ordinary pieces of cloth and the Flag is that the latter evokes emotions, stirs the national conscience, and establishes the national consciousness.  Among many things, it is what makes us Filipino.

I’m not a patriotic flag-waver: it’s been a very long while since I waved the Philippine Flag, and there are few-and-far-between flag ceremonies for me to pay my reverence and respect to the country’s national symbol.  Yet Sen. Richard Gordon authors a bill – and it passes in Congress – to add a ninth ray to the Sun of the Flag.  He defends his bill by saying:

This is a great step in recognizing the fact that we had Muslims such as Lapu-Lapu, Sultan Kudarat, Amai Pakpak, Sorongan, who kept fighting the Spaniards long before this country thought of a revolution against Spain. This would foster unity, make sure that nobody is excluded.  If we are to have national unity in this country it must begin in our flag, it must be symbolized in our flag.

- Sourced from Inquirer.net

There’s an old saying that goes: Patriots wrap themselves around the Flag to protect it, yet scoundrels wrap themselves with the Flag to be protected.

September 24, 2009 1 comment Read More
This Blog Entry is a Representation of My Exact Thoughts and Views on Everything About Writing in General Because Verbosity, Metaphor, Verbiage, and Floridity in Online Self-Articulation and Communication is Obviously the Norm for Some People Who Cannot – Not Do Not, But Cannot – Express Themselves Briefly, Concisely, and Succinctly and Would Only Accept That Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style” is the Only Valid Resource for Clear and Articulate Communication Without Distorting the Meaning So Everything You Learned in English, Reading, Spelling, and Cultural Studies Classes are All Really a Bunch of Bollocks and 140 Characters Simply Do Not Suffice for Delivering Your Message

This Blog Entry is a Representation of My Exact Thoughts and Views on Everything About Writing in General Because Verbosity, Metaphor, Verbiage, and Floridity in Online Self-Articulation and Communication is Obviously the Norm for Some People Who Cannot – Not Do Not, But Cannot – Express Themselves Briefly, Concisely, and Succinctly and Would Only Accept That Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style” is the Only Valid Resource for Clear and Articulate Communication Without Distorting the Meaning So Everything You Learned in English, Reading, Spelling, and Cultural Studies Classes are All Really a Bunch of Bollocks and 140 Characters Simply Do Not Suffice for Delivering Your Message

September 24, 2009 12 comments Read More
Death Foretold

Death Foretold

Of the last gasps of the dying: we wait for them to exhale.

Save for my grandmother, I’ve never seen anyone die.  I just check obituaries, or I hear the bad, sad news from a friend or an acquaintance that someone I know passed away.  Yet those are for sick and old relatives.  Over the years, I’ve grown used to the idea that my friends and acquaintances would probably die by suicide.  Many of them already have.

There’s a friend who hanged herself.  There’s a friend who overdosed on drugs.  I know someone who died from a vehicular accident because he was piss-drunk racing on the highways.  A couple of acquaintances shot themselves.  Someone sliced the flesh of her arm too deep, and died from hemorrhage.  One jumped off a bridge.  One by one, they died before they knew what it’s like – what it’s really like – to live.  I stopped counting at 20: either my memory fails me, or that the idea of counting every single dead friend and acquaintance is too much to bear.  I could have counted more, and I could probably count more as time passes by.

It’s particularly difficult to deal with it at funerals and wakes, where you’re supposed to remember the life and times of that friend in the coffin. Yet no round of tong-its or mystery of the Rosary will ever change the fact that this particular person’s last memory is that they died by their own hands.  Somehow, I can’t stand that thought.

September 24, 2009 8 comments Read More