Everyone seems to be harping on the latest merry-go-round in the Senate. The opposition has the numbers, so they say. The administration senators question the legality. Result? Stalemate.
Can anyone tell me please what’s going on? Let’s have a show of hands here. Do we really care about this whole petty quarreling? Those who care about who gets what committee chairmanship, please raise your hand. Not much of you out there, huh?
Why? Because it’s no big deal to all of us who pay the salary of these lawmakers. What we care about is a Senate busy at work, making laws, not senators jockeying for position. All I can say is: big deal!
Now, while all this is going on, several "sexy" actresses and a couple of showbiz personalities are trading barbs, claiming that the other was taking this so-and-so drug, that the other person is a "snake," a liar, a bitch and the wicked witch from hell. Why is this on my TV set? I mean, c’mon! I want to be entertained – not learn about the personal issues of showbiz personalities against other personalities. And to think that this bit of "critical news" was featured in every showbiz talk show. You know what I have to say to all this? Big deal!
Why is the public so wrapped up in things that in the end really don’t amount to anything? What I find tragically amusing is how we as a society seem to blow these issues out of proportion when in fact they are trivial.
Sometimes I just shake my head in amusement. Much ado about nothing. Or, if what we’re concerned about does have some importance, it’s usually something that we have absolutely no control over.
I am not exempted from this. In fact, I was the Worry-Wart King in my younger days.
When I was a kid, I’d almost get a heart attack every time my favorite team, the Crispa Redmanizers, would play against their perennial nemesis, Toyota. I literally had chest pains whenever the game was close and my team was down. At that time, Crispa was my life. I didn’t care much about anything else. Well, maybe toys and the Six Million Dollar Man. Those three things were my life
There I was – an eight-year-old kid suffering from high blood pressure, hyperventilating – and literally almost dying from cardiac arrest every time there was a basketball game between Crispa and Toyota. This went on until I was 17. I’m quite sure if you put together all the stress during all those games I watched, you’d find that it took away five years of my life.
I brought this worry-wart attitude to high school. My yearbook write-up in high school goes, "‘ What shall I do?’ is the line you often heard from Rod. He’s a guy who seems to get bothered by the most trivial challenges."
My friends knew me well. How I would worry about where to buy Mongol No. 1 pencils for the NCEE. How I would shape my hair whenever I put Dippity-Do gel. I got stressed over inter-village basketball games and how I had to score at least 20 points for me to be respected by my peers. I was overly anxious over opening lines with a girl I was calling for the first time.
When I got to college, I was still a nervous wreck. I was overly concerned about being seen getting off the public bus. In law school, I took this "big deal" mentality to another level. Every time I screwed up in my recitation, I almost wanted to kill myself! At night, I would stay awake and cringe in embarrassment over a hilarious answer I gave that day. One time, I was asked by my criminal law teacher (God bless his soul) about a particular provision of law...."Ok, Mr. Nepomuceno, what is Article so-and-so in the Penal Code?" He was asking about a provision that prohibited the burying of criminals with "pomp," that is, burying criminals like a hero. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to study that afternoon (I was a working student so there were times I came in unprepared). My seatmate knew I didn’t know the answer so she tried whispering the answer to me to bail me out. "It’s unlawful to bury criminals with pomp!" she whispered. I said, "Sir, the law says that it is unlawful to bury criminals with ‘a pump!’" My professor looked at me with a perplexed look. "What? Bury a criminal with a pump?! You mean an air pump?" As I was panicking, I just shrugged my shoulder and said, "Yes, sir." The classroom exploded with laughter. That night, I could hardly sleep. I was imagining how this boo-boo would have a direct impact on my whole career. How it would haunt me the rest of my life. I was concerned about my reputation. My classmates began to call me "Ne-pomp-muceno!" I was ruined, I thought.
They say hindsight is always perfect – with 20-20 vision. I realize now that I wasted a lot of time over things that really didn’t matter. Now I ask myself – "What was all that for?"
Now I have different concerns, but I take them in stride. I no longer get so rattled and so wrapped up in things that I know will eventually be solved anyway and things that I can’t control.
How did I develop this new attitude? Well, I just had to look out of my car window to realize how stupid our worries are. Look at all the street children. They certainly have more to worry about: an unpleasant present and a very uncertain future.
But you know what, those guys seem to look pretty happy to me. Maybe because their happiness is mababaw. They are happy if they have a good, hot meal or if they get slippers to wear, or if someone even cares to roll down their window and give a few coins. They don’t seem to care much if their two front teeth are missing – or if their noses are flatter than pancakes. How they look and smell is the least of their worries.
But notice those who have access to money – all of us office outfit-wearing yuppies in Ayala and Ortigas– we have this worried look. Every zit, bump, scratch, pimple, wart, dead toe, one-haired-mole, scar, scab, flab, cellulite, stretch mark, and skin discoloration is a major concern. And, knowing that they have access to extra money, they will save up every peso they can in order to be able to set up an appointment with the most expensive dermatologist.
Or, if it’s not our looks, we’re concerned about how to find funds to finance the upgrading of our car sound system or our wardrobe. It seems that every time we have extra money, we look for the next "big deal" that we hope would make our lives better – and would make us happier. But really, is it all worth the aggravation?
The Senate can go on and on with its little circus. To me, it doesn’t matter who ends up on top and who heads what committee. They are using our tax money while they are all squabbling.
There are people and issues who matter more than these. People who really need our attention, who are hungry, sick and without homes. Above all, what really matters is whatever you believe in. If it’s your faith, by all means make a big deal out of it. If it’s a cause, go right ahead – that’s a big deal. But if it’s bickering, backbiting, and squabbling that’s taking up your time, move on. Believe me, it’s not worth it. It’s not a big deal.