I don’t even bother looking at the day’s headlines. In fact, I often joke that the obituary page actually had more life to it – which is probably why some of my friends still turn to that section. "It’s the bleaker ahead of the bleakest," a pessimist once said of this practice.
But most of all, I’ve shunned writing about politics because I feel that it’s just a waste of time.
Having said that, it’s rather amusing to know how different my thoughts were six years ago, when I was still young enough to not take the world of commerce seriously. I constantly voiced out opinions on feuding candidates or the likely outcomes of the polls.
There were a lot of heated debates with professors and classmates, and although my views were quite ah, insipid, I did it with so much fervor and eagerness that I usually got the last word.
I cast my ballot in anticipation, making sure that I picked those who could really make a difference to a rotting economy. And later, as I dutifully exchanged more ideas with a group of so-called analysts, I proudly held up my purple-stained thumb for everyone to see. It was pride, commitment, and belief swirling inside my brain simultaneously. People probably thought I was an idiot or something, though I would only scoff and cackle gleefully at the notion. But you know what the saddest part of it is? They were right.
Unless you pulled a Rip Van Winkle and snoozed the years away, you’d agree that things around here have barely improved. They have actually become worse. I realized this when the dwarfish pandesal at our nearby bakery shrunk even further.
No, there weren’t any aliens or banshees running amuck, but the sight of weeping mothers and unemployed fathers living in cardboard boxes was as bad as anything under the sun. I initially convinced myself that I was just being silly, but when I heard that our foreign debt had reached the trillions, I finally abandoned my social faith.
Sensibly, I denounced the importance of Filipinos as responsible voters or role models, and all the other meticulous crap about digesting politics as another golden egg. It let me down tremendously, and I lost confidence in the system.
The feeling can be likened to your childhood – if you’re one of those kids who were made to believe Santa Claus really existed, and then later on catching dad merrily putting candy canes in your stinking sock. It was just dreadful. And like anyone else who had been taken for a sucker ride on the loser express, I, too, woke up to the harsh reality that people in general are crooked‚ and devious‚ creatures. Guess it’s no wonder why they get blamed for everything negative in my life.
I still tried to find a bright spot in all this (for the sheer heck of it), but if you think that living through that filth will churn out something good in the end, then you, my friend, are greatly mistaken. Sad to say, this is a token effort on my side to balance nature – a half-hearted attempt to do what’s right. And instead of taking a stand and clamoring yet again for change‚ I simply withered and sulked.
Eventually, I stopped believing. And I now mocked, albeit silently, anybody who had the nerve to bring up government or politics. What was the use of optimism, I thought, if everything else continued to go on a downward spiral? Nada.
For the next several years, my cheery outlook and all the past joys of youthful idealism took its toll and faded away. Hatred, laziness and greed succeeded in its place, and soon engulfed the entirety of my new-found shallowness.
I was soon getting used to making fun of our country, when a glimmer of that old trust came back. It was sudden, and petty like that pandesal argument, but apparently just as persuasive. I was driving home drunk one night (not my proudest moment) as I pulled in at Sea Oil for a hundred pesos worth of gas, when a young, undernourished teenage boy tapped softly on the car window. He was asking for money.
Although I’m not a charity advocate, I usually give these beggars some spare change so they’ll leave. But since my wallet had already coughed up its last dough, I shook my head and made a gesture of apology. The boy gave me a desperate look.
Now it was perhaps the alcohol talking, but I felt so much pity that I searched the backseat for anything. I saw a piece of Graham cracker and hastily asked him if he wanted it. The boy nodded.
He then licked his lips, went to a corner and smiled. Obviously, it was the first time he had ever seen a Graham cracker, and I watched with waning curiosity as he grimaced and handed it over to a small girl of about four (probably his sister). He rubbed her back gently as she happily munched on the piece.
I was instantly touched by it, and just as rapidly as the cracker had gone, a part of my faith was again restored. It dawned on me that in spite of all the setbacks and disappointments in this cruel world, it’s actually still okay to look forward to something better. And we Filipinos are especially capable of doing that.
So am I going to cast my vote on Monday? You bet. But this time, it won’t be for the pleasure of discussing politics or analyzing elections. This time, it’s for commitment – however vague that may sound.
Although most of the ideals I had have passed on, hope will always remain a part of my being – just like many of you out there. For it is this admirable threshold for pain and suffering that keeps our spirit alive as a people.