It is not easy to love you, Jose Rizal.

It is far easier to love our fellowmen—because we can reach out to them, because they never seem as impenetrable and as unchanging as you are. You are, after all, the eerie Renaissance man. Doctor, sculptor, educator, propagandist—the list goes on with you. Even if you probably aren’t perfect, you seem the very figure of perfection, the epitome of that oft-used phrase, “small but terrible,” while the rest of us, in your presence, might just feel small and terrible. Your actions have been documented, and dissected to the point that—and I hazard a guess here—had you lived in our time, someone would have probably called you the first Filipino on Facebook. Or the first Filipino on Twitter. Or even the first Filipino to text. You are an extraordinary man, but as we try to move towards our own extraordinary selves, it feels rather difficult to look up and see looming the shadows of a metaphorical giant. It feels like a grave burden.

It is easier to be in awe, to hold you up as a paragon of all that is good and just. It is easier to build statues to show our admiration and respect. It is easier to make laws, or to put you in money. It is easier to blow you up from that five-foot-or-something stature instead of discussing you as you are, which is one of us—it is that ‘us’, and what it means, which I guess we have trouble with.

It is not easy to love your country, Jose Rizal.

I don’t think you’ve ever been run over by a kalesa before, but here people are getting run over by their own countrymen. I mean that both ways. Just recently, someone important to my friends passed away because of an accident, an accident rooted in a disregard for the rules. You’ve probably heard of this before, and you might call this an enduring problem, one we continue to struggle to solve, but while we are independent and free, we are trapped in the shackles of poverty, of corruption, of the lack of equality, of the lack of basic human decency. It is very difficult to believe in goodness when people so willingly shove in an effort to get a ride, or when people steal, so blatantly, in front of everyone else. It is very difficult to love a country that struggles to feed its children, one that struggles to send them to school. It feels like an imposition, one borne out of being born here.

I had to be taught to love you—I was fortunate enough to go to a school where people respect you enough to discuss you like I would talk about a friend. You weren’t perfect, but you were brilliant, and at that place, I was shown it all—your thoughts, your actions, your deeds, your faults, every single thing that makes one human. I was shown it all, and slowly I began to understand.

But ultimately I learned to love you because of someone I loved, myself. You should know that you generate such feverish devotion, such a constant thrill, that when someone I loved was passionate about you, I went out of my way to finally learn more about you, to see why people had such feelings for you—feelings other than awe and respect, denominations given freely to such educated men.

It was selfish, I know, like buying a car, or new clothes, to impress. I was supposed to know better—I should not have been that shallow. But all of us do crazy things for love, and apparently, to love someone is to love the people they love themselves. So I had to learn to love you.

I learned that you took pleasure in reading, in simple meals, in the comforts of a small town, and in the bright lights of a big city. And the more I read about you, and re-read about you, the more I realized that in some ways, we were alike.

The statue awakens, and the man is alive.

Whether it was love or it was a newfound vigor, I might never know, but slowly I started to want to know more about my country. I wanted to learn about the past, to understand the present. I wanted to understand the present, to guide my future. I went out of my way to learn more about you, and when the time came to spend a semester of nothing else but your name, I tried to grab as much of an opportunity as I could. And suddenly, suddenly your country was a beautiful place, the site of a billion treasures—the same country I had vowed to leave, over and over again, as I’d seen many do. As I’d seen you do. (But perhaps, erasing the option of ever coming back.) The same country I had complained over and over about, the same people I’d relegated to the dust of a possible departure, now they were my country, my people.

I loved you and I loved my country the same way I’d loved someone, but with the bittersweet ending to that love I started to wonder if I was shallow after all, and that I’d cease loving you and my country, myself.

And so we come to this fork in a road.

I can choose, like many, to throw away all that their loves had loved, for an opportunity to forget, and to start anew, and there with the letters and the music, you can lie—you and your country. It would not be new to leave you, and it would not be difficult to find reasons to. 

Or I could choose to love my country the way I had always loved people, steadfastly. In the knowledge of thoughts and actions, praises and faults. I could love my country because I now know you, and I now understand you. That I could leave if in my heart to the Philippines I will always return. That I could criticize if I promise to stand tall and work with others for a solution.

I could love my country not as a singular heart belonging to a 'one', but as a plethora, of hearts I ought to protect, of minds I ought to help mold—which perhaps, was what you wanted all along.

And because it is a milestone of a birthday, perhaps, this time, I should give to you, as you would want, without thinking about the cost. I know that I may not be alone, that I may have started too late, but as I learned from you—better to face your fate, your reality, even at the last minute, than never to look it in the eye at all. I might not change everything, but from this day on, I will try with all my might.

Then maybe, someday, if I can be even half as good as you are, then we can all stand shoulder to shoulder with you, like giants. Until then, I will keep my hope, and your faith, and work for my future. 

Happy birthday, Jose Rizal.

Yesterday, I went to RPN for internship, trying out this new thing where I try to balance every aspect of my life as best as I could. Monday was internship, then mad dash to UP for MCO's final interview day. For the first one and a half hour or so, I was doing nothing. I ended up typing texts regarding advisories from different oil companies, answering the phone at least once, and watching the TV, as usual. Then, Sir Jude asked me to tag along with Kuya Ruel, Kuya Gerry, and Ma'am Steph. I already know Ma'am Steph since I wrote notes for her last week re: the Dominguez case, but I didn't expect to be asked to tag along with a reporter. YAY FIRST TIME. We ended up ambushing congressmen re: the Ronald Singson case, and going to a committee hearing for the RH Bill. 

Epiphany. This one committee hearing made me realize why our government sucks. If you've heard of the RH Bill, you also know that it has been around for literally years. As in nakakailang incarnations na 'yang bill na 'yan, and because of politics, conservative people, and priests who threaten to withhold communion from certain lawmakers, this has pretty much been a stalled enterprise so far. Anyway, we got there, and it started late, and then they were off arguing about including the new amendments. They argued about whether to adopt the new amendments or something else, and somewhere along those thirty minutes of confusion, someone decided to adjourn the meeting. PRACTICALLY EVERYONE RAISED THEIR HAND TO ADJOURN THE HEARING. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! 

Alam na talaga. Fucking hell, no wonder nothing gets done there. Multiply this by what, a hundred, and you immediately realize that this is why we're not progressing. People can't even take their jobs seriously. 

Anyway, tomorrow I'm going on the graveyard, as it's the countdown for Chinese New Year. The plan is we stay there until the wee hours of the morning, I get home to shower and change, go to J 152, and then go back in the afternoon to resume my internship. Friday, I go back again, as well as Saturday. Rinse and repeat. 

I didn't make an internship blog for my 2nd day at RPN, because it was pretty much more of the same thing. Well, except for the fact that it was supposed to be the day when we went on the graveyard shift, but Trixie and I decided not to because on that day, a driver got into an accident, Sir Edward told us about almost getting decaptitated, and Ma'am Maeann freaked out a bit when we told her about it. So, we took it as a sign that if we pushed through with the graveyard, something bad would happen to us. In retrospect, it didn't matter since we managed to clock in a lot of time anyway. 

Today, I got in around 2 pm, and I was watching TV for a while (I don't think I was there for 30 minutes, most likely less) when Sir Jude told me that I would be going out with a driver and a cameraman. I got introduced to Kuya Chito and Kuya Ric. Sir Jude told me to take notes and then give them to Ma'am Steph when I came back. We ended up going to the press con--actually, it wasn't a press con at all, more like an ambush--at QC Circle, and we ambushed the lawyer for Raymond Dominguez, who's allegedly involved in the Venson Evangelista case. Nakakaloka lang that I was there, kasi Pat Roque from TV 5 was beside me, and so was a GMA reporter whose name escapes me right now. It was fun though, even though all I had to do was ask clarificatory questions and shizz, and hold the mic. This was when I realized na nakakalokang maghawak ng mic habang nag-nonotes. I'd trust my memory, but this is my internship, so I'm not risking it. 

Once I got back, my chicken scratch, err, notes, got transferred to another sheet of paper, in a cleaner crisper version, I gave them to Ma'am Steph. Grabeng fulfillment lang ang nadama ko. Sana dumalas pa yung ganitong paglabas, because it makes my internship more fun. 

As usual, around 5-6, I was photocopying and distributing scripts. At one point, pinabigay sa 'kin ng hosts personally, at muntik na 'kong dumaan in front of the camera. WHAT IS LUTANG. Buti na lang I was able to catch myself and get back on the right track, literally and metaphorically. I was like what, five to seven steps away from being on-cam? Haha. :)) 

Naisip ko lang, I'll see how this internship thing goes. I like the excitement I got from going out with a crew, and writing notes, and watching it go on air. I don't know if this is a general sense of achievement lang, or an actual sign that maybe, even after everything, my first love--news--is calling me back. If it is, I think this is a good start. 

Given everything I know now, I would say the worst job in the world is to be a politician. First off, you have to shell out more money to get elected versus the money you'll earn in office (this is of course assuming that you wouldn't steal any from your constituents). Second, you'll spend half your time in office arguing with people who think differently from you, trying to get your way. Third, no privacy, and practically no security. Fourth, you do something bad--people will remember it forever; you do something good, it will all just fade away. Fifth, job security is dependent on public and private opinion--public opinion, as in, people who will vote for you, and private opinion, as in, whether people who work with you continue to find you useful for whatever grand scheme you have in mind.

Lastly, at the end of it all, you're basically in a thankless job, with little pay, practically no security whatsoever, with your keeping your job dependent on whether people like you, believe in you, or not.  

Ain't that a bitch, honestly. 

However, the people who get into politics who have good intentions and manage to keep some semblance of goodness and dignity intact--wow. My hat's off to them, honestly. 

Miranda Priestly. Because it's the ultimate tribute. She stands for the kind of woman I want to be--independent, successful, ambitious. All of her minus the hurting-my-friends-because-I-took-away-their-dream-jobs-from-them, and crushing-my-young-assistant's-idealism stuff. No more words needed. 

I've been waiting for Saturday since the start of the week, since I've been wanting to watch Toy Story 3 when it opened. Finally, Saturday rolled in and I finally got the chance to rest in the way I wanted to. First off, I got to watch the first of Ambeth Ocampo's four lectures at the Ayala Museum. Going to the Ayala Museum is actually on my 55 Things to Do for 2010, and I was so glad I was finally able to go there. As for Ambeth Ocampo, I've only read Rizal Without the Overcoat--because it was in our grade school library--before I met him in person during a lecture he gave for our STS (Science, Technology, and Society) class about Rizal as a scientist. I enlisted in his Saturday morning class, but since UP CRS is UP CRS, I didn't get in.

I made a reservation two weeks ago for me and my brother, but I ended up going by myself since he had football training in the morning. I slept at 1 am, and woke up at 7 am just for his 10:30 lecture, and when I got there, WOW. Box office. There were a lot of people, and saying 'a lot' is actually an understatement. I paid for my ticket in the line for students, and I didn't write a class or a prof, since I'm not enrolled in any of Professor Ocampo's classes anyway. After I signed up, I got my free book--Looking Back--and I looked for a seat. I was told to sit somewhere except in the reserved area section, and I was settled in when I saw this lady carrying a list of the people in the reserved seats, and I saw my name on it! Ding! There goes my chance! I told the lady holding the clipboard that I made a reservation, but that I wasn't able to confirm because I was busy. She asked for my name, I gave it, and she saw it on her list. I told her that I already paid the 200 peso student fee and that I'll just be watching by myself for all four lectures, and she was like, "You can just pay every time you come in, but the seat's reserved for you." My parents chose to just walk around and spend time with each other while I was in the museum. She then led me to my seat, A-7, which was at the very front row. I high-fived myself mentally for the upgrade. Haha. :)) 

After I got settled in, more people came that the Museum had to get seats for all of them. I was so glad I made that reservation, even if I didn't confirm it. At least alam nilang nandito lang ako. When I got to my seat, there was a guy on my right who was in his middle age na, and a woman in my left who looked like she was from the same age group na rin. The guy on my right said, "Did you reserve the seat for today, or for all four lectures?" I said that that I had it reserved for all the four lectures, and he was like, "Smart." Then I told him that I was going to Prof. Ocampo's lectures since I didn't get to enlist in his class in UP.  The guy on my right turned out to be Guillermo Luz, who was once secretary-general of NAMFREL and who was executive director of the Makati Business Club. He now runs the Ayala Museum and the Ayala Foundation. Sorry naman, I honestly didn't know who he was! 

Anyway, I saw Ambeth Ocampo on one side of the room, and I decided to have my book autographed before the talk instead of after, since there will definitely be a long queue after his talk for that. I then remembered that Rix was supposed to give me her books to have them autographed, but I forgot to ask for them and she also forgot to give it to me. So I decided that as an advance birthday present of sorts (one of the things on her wishlist was to have an autographed copy of an Ambeth Ocampo book), I'll ask him to talk to her on the phone and greet her a happy birthday. My first plan was to videotape him greeting Rix a happy birthday, to be given on her birthday itself, but I thought a phone call from Ambeth Ocampo at 10:30 in the morning to an unsuspecting history geek would sound more exciting. Haha. The entire conversation went something like this: 

Me: (gives copy of Looking Back) Hi. For Eunice, sir. 
*Ambeth Ocampo signs copy of the book, I thank him profusely*
Me: Sir, could I ask a small favor from you? (Ambeth Ocampo looks at me quizzically) I have a friend who's a big fan of Rizal and a big fan of your writings on Rizal. Could you greet her a happy birthday?
Ambeth Ocampo: Sure. 
*I immediately text balance inquiry to Globe and pump my fist inwardly when I found out that I had enough load for a call*
Me: *perfunctory morning greetings with Rix, yadda yadda* Rix, somebody wants to greet you a happy birthday.
*I pass my phone to Ambeth Ocampo, and Ambeth Ocampo himself proceeds to greet Rix a happy birthday, and I can only imagine squeeing and sharing of the fact that her brother's taking his class, to which he says that he's going to call Rix's brother for recitation every time daw, and all the while, people are in line waiting for Ambeth Ocampo to sign their books. Ambeth Ocampo passes the phone back to me, I say thank you, and I go back to my seat, where Rix bombards me with a happy 'I Hate You!' that's also obviously a squee, along with a Rix Migrino-trademark 'Thank you!'. :)) End transmission.*

I know it wasn't anywhere on Rix's wishlist, but I did know that if it were my birthday, and I got a call from my favorite writer, or from a favorite musician, I'd flip as well, so I'm hoping that that phone call was a good enough advance birthday gift to give. To be fair, I was also able to get Rix a gift, which I will keep secret until her actual birthday, lest she actually reads this LJ post. Haha. I was also surprised that I had a gumption to ask Ambeth Ocampo, of all people, for a favor, but if it were anybody else's birthday and someone they admired was literally a few feet away from me, I'd cross my fingers and hope that I have load, ask a favor from that person, and call them just the same. 

Anyway, the lecture was awesome, with a capital everything. My mind was blown. Ambeth Ocampo is a historian by profession, but he is also one of this country's most gifted storytellers, and I love knowing more about pre-historic Philippines, since, let's face it, there's not much literature on the subject. Plus this is my way of making up for my Philippine History in college, since I got a 'boring' prof for that subject. Apparently, the porcelain from China that we have is older than the porcelain from China they have in Singapore, that during the pre-historic times, there were things such as chastity covers and penis implements (which looked painful, btw), that the Tabon Man is actually not a man at all, but a woman, that the blood compact had blood coming not from the arm or even from the wrist, but actually from under the breast, and that there is actually a conspiracy theory on Jose Rizal being Jack the Ripper, because the former used scalpels to kill, which indicated that he either had medical training or was a doctor, and conveniently, when the killing started, Rizal was there, and when he left, the killings also stopped. Probably a false theory, but it is quite interesting to hear, nonetheless. And my goodness, Filipino pre-historic culture was interesting. It doesn't seem as complex as Mayan or Egyptian civilizations, but we had a working civilization before the Spaniards came, which refuted the barbaric label that they so conveniently placed on us. After the lecture, I went around the museum to look at the paintings and the dioramas, and my mind was blown with how beautiful everything was. I am so glad I am going to be there once a month for the lectures, and that I'll get to go around and see everything over the course of four months. Tama si Sir Ambeth, hindi nga siya pwedeng ikutin in one day lang. Kailangan balik-balikan talaga. I am so glad I signed up for this, I swear. Thanks to my parental units who woke up early, with me, and allowed me to cross this off my to-do list for 2010. :) 

Above: My signed copy of Professor Ocampo's book, Looking Back, and the ticket. This was taken with my cellphone. Probably one of the few reassurances that we do, in fact, exist in the same dimension. Haha. 

After the lecture, we had lunch at Figaro, got tickets to Toy Story 3, and watched the movie. For one of the few rare times of my life, ang bilis kong kumain. Haha. :)) Toy Story 3 made me cry, I swear. From that first sequence of Andy's old videotapes being played, all of them chronicling his childhood with all the toys, I was crying, and I enjoyed it all the way to the end. By the last part of the movie, I was just trying hard not to cry out loud, but tears were flowing very freely, just like they did when I read my parents' letters to me at senior retreat. It was THAT bad. I could sympathize with Andy and his journey to college, since I made my own a few years ago, and when Andy's mom said, "I want to always be there for you," I remembered my mom saying the exact same thing before my first night at the dorm. Toy Story 3 has all the Disney-Pixar magic, the solid storytelling, the unparalleled creative talent, and the wonderful music. Whoever misses this movie is a moron, and has missed half of his life, I swear. Also, I love that my dad and I were finally able to take my mom to a 3D movie. Apparently, she hasn't watched one until now. Umiiyak din siya, and after the movie, she was like, "Dapat pala dinidisplay ko yung mga old toys niyo." I had the urge to look for my stuffed toys and my Barbie doll after the movie. 

Then we went shopping. Haha. I got new clothes! It was awesome, finding stuff that look good on me. And that's that. We had dinner at Goldilocks', which is one of my dad's favorite places to eat, before they brought me back to the dorm. It was a good day, all in all, although I will probably curse myself for being denied hours of productivity. Thank you for this opportunity to recharge, Lord, and thank you for giving my parents the resources to let me spend time with them and get some much-needed rest. 

Good night, all. :) 
 

I've always felt a little fuzzy when it came to Valentine's day, probably because the good vibes were always so, so contagious, that even if I didn't get anything, I'd still feel giddy anyway. This year, it's probably no different, except that there might be a smattering of work in between. I'm sort of going to abstain and participate at the same time--I don't have anyone to really spend my Valentine's with, but at the same time I have plans with and for my friends. V-Day's our Single Awareness Day, and while that seems like a sad thing to celebrate, it actually is a lot of fun, so there's that. Games, a movie, karaoke, and food trip for the win! :)  

Past, definitely The Beatles. Do I really need to explain why? Seriously. They're just the greatest band on earth. I'd probably be their manager or their publicist, unless John, Paul, George and Ringo need someone to play the piano, violin, or the harmonica for them. :)) 

As for present, hmm. Probably Westlife, since they're my favorite boy band, though I'm not sure what will happen to them if I become a part of the group. Haha.  Also, I'd love to write songs for Maroon 5. :)  

In all kinds of trouble, be it as small as what to wear or something as big as being seriously depressed, I turn to my mom. Just one word and she'll call, ask me to come to her office, or in some cases, rush to my dorm room and stay for the night. Ever since I was a kid, she was really the one I ran to, and now that I live far from home, I miss following her around after dinner and just telling her everything. She's the one who knows practically everything, and she gives the best advice out of everyone I know, ever. She has the benefit of knowing me before birth, that's why. Haha. But she's the one I really turn to, and she's the building block, so to speak, of my network of emotional support.

The rest comes from my high school and college friends, who I love equally, and who give not just the best advice, but also some of the most unexpected pick-me-ups and make-me-smiles that I've had the chance to experience, and this is why I'm thankful for the fact that while we may not get to see each other in person that much, or even while we get to see each other in person practically everyday, we still keep in touch with each other online and basically get updated.

Family and friends, really. That's what keeps my sanity intact. :)