Generations: The Games Children Play

I grew up on Archie comicbooks, Superbook and coloring books. I had stacks of paper dolls worn from constant reuse; and sketch pads with worn pages and filled with childish scribbles in crayons and pencil.

Growing up with a brother less than 2 years older than I am, we’ve together narrowly escaped pretending to be taking a siesta once too often while trying to discreetly mimic the wrestling moves we see every day in the World Wrestling Federation. The few times we were caught, we’d be facing a furious mom telling my brother that if he wanted to kill me from the body slam he liked trying on me, we can experiment throwing his little sister – me – down the stairs so the impact of the body slam would be greater. (Of course I only found out recently that in his mind, my brother was actually thinking – Oh Wow! Can we, really???).

Our playroom contained shelves-full of my brother’s action figures, gigantic He-Man castles and Voltes V robots. My side of the room was littered was stuffed toys, dolls and play kitchen sets. An occasional box or two of Lego would surface. Sometimes Play Doh, much to my mom’s chagrin.

Our share of cartoons was often spent sitting on our designated chairs on Saturday mornings for the weekly Fun Machine with the Great Space Coaster, Yogi Bear, Captain Caveman and Uncle Bob.

Weekends, I spent hours playing make-believe housekeeping, school and dream vacations with my cousins while we would sprawl her huge blankets over the living room couch and create make-believe camping tents. By the end of the day, my cousin would be in my grandmother’s bedroom sulking — and I’d be in the living room couch sulking too. For the life of me I can’t remember the things we fought about. Every night before we went home though, we made it a point to be friends again.

All these things made for great years of fun, imagination and crazy antics that made my childhood extra rich in color and fantasy.

I am aghast today watching my niece and her friends live their childhood very differently from how I did. Children’s fantasy nowadays consists of little electronic toys gadgets, game consoles and shiny, little round things called DVDs that play cartoons, movies and video games. My 9-year old niece, Maia, spends hours during our family get-togethers hunched over my 23-year old brother’s Nintendo DS and PSP playing Pokemon and god-knows-what-else is brewing inside those little things.

Give Maia a cellphone — running on any OS — and she’ll figure it out faster than my own brother and sister-in-law could.

At the height of the Farmville fame, she managed to create one of the prettiest and most productive farms on Farmville in my neighborhood. Her mom couldn’t keep up. She used to visit my farm everyday and try to help manage my dead crops and starving farm animals, until she cried out with frustration one day that I don’t care about my farm anyway so why should she continue helping me.

It’s not just Maia. One Holy Week a few years ago, a good friend of ours called us and asked if he could borrow our Wii console for the break. He needed it because his 8-year old daughter’s cousins are staying over at their place, and he promised them they could spend all their time playing Wii during the break.

My childhood affair with video games was limited to visiting the PacMan and Space Invader arcade machines in Greenhills or Green Valley, Baguio.

Atari made it to our home when I was a tween, but it was something my dad and mom enjoyed much more than I did.

Of course technology eventually made its way into our home. Eventually we had our first home computer running on DOS with Wordstar and Page Maker being the coolest things to hit the computing world.

Much later on, the entire family adopted our very first Nintendo Family Computer which made for more hours of kids and adults soaked in Tetris, Contra and Mario Bros.

Looking back, while it seemed awesome having video games to play with at your disposal (without needing coins to power the machine), I remember getting bored easily and eventually wanting to get back to my Sweet Valley High and Sweet Dreams books. Or conjuring imaginary adventures with my favorite action figures She-Ra, Swiftwind and Double Trouble.

Watching kids of today bury their heads in game consoles or cellphones makes we nostalgic for the kind of childhood I (and my generation) still managed to enjoy. We, the Gen X’ers I believe, were the lucky bunch who managed to straddle both worlds. The world make-believe that happens in our heads; and the world of make-believe on the screens of these high-tech gadgets and consoles.

While I am a proud aunt of a niece who’s more intelligent that my genius brother and sister-in-law combined; while she devours  books with as much ferocity as I do (she has the complete collection of Nancy Drew; she finished Harry Potter Book 7 in just 3 days); and while she inherits my love of writing and creates masterpieces of short stories and poems — I nonetheless wish for her and for my future kids the chance to draw from their own imaginations from a blank canvass of a childhood uncomplicated by the convenience of the high-tech life.

While there’s certainly nothing wrong with making sure kids are new-generation savvy, there’s nothing that compares to the charm, the innocence, the perfection of a child free to run around and explore the real world. The colorful sights, the natural sounds, the earthy smells of soil and sweat, the company of other children, the highs and lows of childhood that made everything absolutely A-OK.

“Generations”  is a new feature in lovesstories that takes a closer look at how 15-20 years makes a huge difference in society and culture today. Stay tuned for more “Generations” posts in the coming weeks and months. Cheers!

Photos displayed were taken from various sites on google image. You may click the photo to find the original link of where the photos were taken.

On Injustice and the Dark Knight

Without meaning to imply that I’m an unsung hero, events that occurred today brought me back to one of my favorite scenes in the movie The Dark Knight. This scene made me cry then, and remembering it now makes me cry too.

[Gordon’s son follows Gordon down to where Batman lies unmoving next to Two-Face’s corpse]

Gordon’s Son: Dad! Dad, is he okay?

Gordon: [relieved as Batman slowly pulls himself up to his knees] Thank you.

Batman: You don’t have to thank me.

Gordon: Yes, I do. [both look at Two-Face’s body on the ground] The Joker won. Harvey’s prosecution, everything he fought for – undone. Any chance you gave us at fixing our city dies with Harvey’s reputation. We bet it all on him. The Joker took the best of us and tore him down. People will lose hope.

Batman: They won’t. They must never know what he did.

Gordon: Five dead, two of them cops? You can’t sweep that up!

Batman: No. But the Joker cannot win. [kneels down next to Harvey, whose scarred left side is facing up] Gotham needs its true hero. [turns Harvey’s head so that his unmarred side faces up]

Gordon: [immediately understanding] No!

Batman: [quoting Harvey Dent] “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” I can do those things because I’m not a hero, not like Dent. I killed those people. That’s what I can be.

Gordon: No, no! You can’t, you’re not! Batman: I’m whatever Gotham needs me to be. [hands Gordon his radio] Call it in.

Gordon: They’ll hunt you.

Batman: You’ll hunt me. You’ll condemn me, set the dogs on me. [In the voiceover, Gordon speaks at Dent’s funeral, then destroys the Bat-Signal, Alfred burns Rachel’s letter, and Fox destroys the sonar device] Because that’s what needs to happen. Because sometimes… the truth isn’t good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded. [Batman runs]

Gordon’s Son: Batman? Batman! Why is he running, Dad?

Gordon: Because we have to chase him.

Gordon’s Son: He didn’t do anything wrong.

Gordon: Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So, we’ll hunt him, because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A Dark Knight.

There’s a certain baggage that comes with being where I am now at work.

With what we do, we’re at the end of the long chain of support groups that makes things happen. When and if someone majorly screws-up somewhere along that chain, we are the ones who will sadly and ultimately look bad.

Today I was told that after all we had done to get things to come together at the last minute in spite of everyone else’s screw-ups, that ultimately we still dropped the ball on this one.

Out of anger, total and utter disbelief and frustration, tears angrily poured down my face. I lost coherence in front of my boss for the first time since I started this gig.

Maybe it’s the idealist in me. There’s nothing wrong with expecting honesty, integrity and decency among the people you work with, right? Nothing wrong with holding a deep-seated hope that the truth will prevail and those who deserve to be reprimanded — will be reprimanded. And those who did their best and did it right in spite of everything — would, well, be left alone.

I’m not even asking for a pat on the back. I don’t need it. And I can give that pat on the back to my own people. They deserved it.

I’m not asking for acknowledgement either. It’s our job. It’s what we’re here for.

The last thing I expected though is what I got. To be told that my team messed up.

I think everyone else knows the truth.

And I know that as all things unfold, the truth will eventually come out. And heads will roll, tongues will wag, punishments will be meted out. But no apologies will ever be made. All I’m sure to hear will be denials that this was the intent. To be told that maybe I overreacted to words that didn’t mean what they meant. To be told to calm down, stop being so defensive, and then to be patronized. And then pressured again to deliver as though nothing happened. And then everything will be back to normal.

But it won’t change what happened today.

I always wondered about this. When my previous boss was still around, I never realized how difficult it was for him. Now I look back and admire his patience and resilience. And mostly, I admire how he was able to hold it all in and keep it to himself.

I don’t have as strong a grip on my emotions when pushed — as he does. I still wonder how he managed to stay here for almost 3 years and put up with this.

When all is said and done, I know I won’t walk away. I’ll stay and fight. Today was just a setback.

Luckily for me, I have a team of 14 rowdy, crazy but awesome people to take care of and protect. Without them, my job wouldn’t mean anything. Without them, I wouldn’t have a reason to be here anymore.

There are people who cause bad things to happen simply by being who they are. Whether it comes with malicious intent, or whether there are just some loose screws somewhere in there.

There are those who sit back and watch as things unfold before them — staying  neutral and objective about everything. Keeping themselves far removed from conflict as best as they can.

And then there are those that are pushed to fight whether they want to or not. But by simply being who they are, problems seem to flock to them like bees to honey. It’s unfortunate for them too that these same problem-solvers are the ones who feel the strongest urge to protect those in their flock even if it means raising hell for it and looking like the bad (insubordinate) guy.

I can’t say that I’m like the Dark Knight.

But hell, I certainly know how he feels.

And knowing me, I’ll fight fairly even if some people don’t deserve a fair fight. Knowing me, I’ll eventually just let it go and entrust it to the universe to even things out… after I’ve made a point. I’ll keep quiet and take it in, take it on and believe that eventually, the truth will reveal itself. Suck in the fact that none of this is fair. Forgive the fact that a gross injustice was done to me and mine. *Sigh*

Prophecies of Doom

When the news broke that Japan’s 2nd nuclear reactor in Fukushima exploded two days ago, a massive wave of text messages, FB status updates and Twitter updates warned Filipinos to brace themselves; stay indoors; seal doors and windows; protect themselves from acid rain — because the radiation from the nuclear explosion would hit Philippine shores within the next few hours. One specific text message that went around even cited that the news had come from BBC News.

Of course none of the warnings were true. Neither CNN, nor BBC, nor even FOX news validated that rumor. In fact, several news items broke a few hours later disputing that any other country would get hit by the radiation.

I’m all for taking precautions against potentially dangerous situations. And I appreciate people’s enthusiasm for spreading the word quickly.

What I don’t appreciate are news being disguised as official news, when they’re nothing but conjecture. If you can spend several pesos sending long text messages about news you aren’t sure of, you can spend a few more pesos checking the Internet for validity of the news being spread.

Especially if the news being spread is one that could potentially spread mass panic.

Much like prophets of doom who foretell that the world truly will end in 2012… with these recent (and still ongoing) earthquakes in Japan to further lend credence to the theory.

Who knows what will happen in 2012? Who knows if the world will truly end?

I suppose it’s the part in me that resists giving in to fate that makes me cringe at prophecies such as this. I like living for the here and now. I like the fact that every minute I’m alive means it’s another chance for me to appreciate being alive. I like the fact that tomorrow is unknown territory. It’s scary in some ways, yes. But it’s also thrilling to think of the possibilities.

Forces of Nature and the Meaning of Life

Imagine the scenario.

The persistent sound of the alarm clock jolts you awake from blissful sleep. You hit the snooze button a couple of times before you eventually decide it’s really time to wake up. You finally get up, have a luxurious stretch, get out of bed, go to the john, go to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee. Then you check the papers, have breakfast, chit-chat with family and plan the day. The kids need to be brought to school so you hit the shower, get dressed and shepherd the family out the door. Together, you brave the rush hour traffic to get everyone to school and work on time.

Throughout the day, it’s a series of meetings, deadlines, phone calls, presentations, arguments and idle moments in the office pantry.

Meanwhile, your mind is on the pleasurable prospect of the fact that it’s finally Friday. You look forward to a night out in town to chill, relax and celebrate the start of the weekend. You imagine the awesomeness that is waking up the following morning, safe and cozy in your own home without the persistent sound of an alarm clock to wake you up. It’s Saturday anyway. You mentally make a note of the chores you need to do that weekend. People you have to see. TV shows to catch up on. Quality time with the spouse. Playtime and a mall date with the kids. Perhaps a golf game or two.

And then with a deep sigh, you force yourself back to the reality that Friday workday isn’t over yet. So you go back to work, but reassure yourself that it’s just a few hours away to freedom.

Then suddenly, you feel dizzy and unsteady on your feet. Around you, others are equally as disoriented and perplexed. The furniture in your office starts swaying, closets and cupboards squeak, wind chimes clang noisily, objects fall from tables, and then you realize — there’s an earthquake.

You panic for a split second. Others around you come to the same realization. Some make a dash for the stairs. Others frantically make their way to the elevators in an attempt to flee the towering heights. Some others scramble to get under tables and door frames.

When it’s over, another one hits. And then another. The tremors just don’t stop. When it finally does, water from the sea rapidly rushes towards the city. Within seconds it engulfs everything in plain sight. Wrecking vehicles, ripping houses off the ground, robbing lives, and leaving behind nothing but a tragic scene of devastation — changing everything you’ve carefully built, tearing you away from those you love, destroying everything you’ve ever known, all in a split second.

Nobody ever thought this Friday would turn out to be this way.


Friday, March 11 at roughly 2:30pm local time, an 8.8 magnitude earthquake struck Northern Japan.

While state-of-the-art building safety technology saved most of the towering skyscrapers of Tokyo, the resulting giant tsunami waves from the quake did not save Sendai. Video footage revealed the devastation that the tsunami had brought. Cars are tossed aside like toys, structures demolished, the city is underwater, people are stranded in whatever remaining structures still remain standing.

Power in most of Japan is still out, as of this writing. As a result, nuclear plants at the North of Tokyo are under red alert with a lack of coolants to control the plant’s temperature.

Meanwhile, Hawaii and Los Angeles start receiving the tsunami waves that have travelled all the way from Japan’s shores. They aren’t expected to be anywhere remotely close to the magnitude of damage done in Sendai.

The Philippines wasn’t ignored by the tsunami. Luckily for us, it barely brought in more than 70cms of waves. Like Taiwan and Indonesia, our geographical positions weren’t poised to receive the worst of it.

None of us are strangers to earthquakes, flooding, hurricanes and forces of nature that render us suddenly, helpless and vulnerable. I still recall the tragedy of Ondoy and all the painful experiences it created as a result of it.

A year and a half later, I still hear stories of friends and acquaintances whose lives were irrevocably changed because of it. The toughest story to forget is a friend who braved the human-height raging flood in the attempts of getting home to her husband and children. While struggling to cross what had then already become a raging sea of floodwater, dead bodies were floating all around her.

While she made it home eventually to a family glad enough to have survived this ordeal in spite of the damage it did to their home, she will never forget the horrors she witnessed that day.

It’s a painful knock on the head. It takes calamities like these to jolt us out of our stupor of complacency and discontent. To realize all over again that life is infinitely precious and should never be taken for granted.

While watching with abject horror the cities in Japan ravaged by the tsunami, all I wanted to do was to call to an abrupt halt the meeting at work I had to sit through… and just go home to my husband where I truly belonged. I wanted to give my mom a call and tell her I love her.

Not because I was afraid of the tsunami hitting the Philippines. Not because there are rumors that countries which are part of the Ring of Fire will inevitably have their share of a catastrophic earthquake in the next few weeks.

But just because it made me realize what the most important things in life are. Everything could change in the blink of an eye. Everything or nothing could be lost by one single act of nature, one incident, one seemingly insignificant moment in time. That’s the way the world works.

If you’re still reading this post, then it means that like me, you too are lucky enough to just be an observer of this entire debacle.

Let this earthquake, and let all the tragic stories we hear about everyday remind all of us that life is too short. Too precious to take for granted. Too precious to spend time focusing on the things which in the greater scheme of things, don’t really matter as much.

Live as though there were no tomorrow. Spend time and give time to those you care about. Stop doing the things that make you unhappy. Be honest, be true to who you are. Do what you love to do. Stop doing things that make you unhappy. Live. Love. And make every moment count.

One of my favorite quotable quotes from a movie couldn’t have said it any better.

Frodo Baggins: I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.

Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for us to decide. What we can decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.

-The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring


If you want to help the victims of the earthquake/ tsunami, visit this website. Godspeed!

The Secret to a Happy Marriage

In April, my husband and I celebrate our 2nd year wedding anniversary.

Before the day we signed our marriage contract, we had already been living together for 8 years. In a way, you could say we’ve practically been married for 10 years now.

In spite of the years I had to get to know him better while coming to grips with all that comes with being with him, marriage continues to still be oftentimes, a struggle. That’s putting it mildly.

10 years later since the day we moved in together, we still manage to go to sleep at night angry with each other without resolving whatever latest issue is the hot pick for the day.

10 years later, I still wrestle with the difficult task of deciphering what’s going on in those little gray cells that’s his mind when he’s giving me the silent treatment…sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for days.

10 years later, I still lie awake at night occasionally wondering if choosing him to be my future was the best choice.

We’ve heard the cliche: Love is never enough. Love is rarely the reason why couples just choose to end their relationship once and for all.

I’ve heard it often enough from good friends that my husband and I are their favorite love team of all time.

For those few, they know the depth and magnitude of all we’ve gone through all these years.

I wouldn’t call the circumstances of our relationship as being anywhere remotely close to the definition of a conventional relationship.

Growing up with a highly dysfunctional, unconventional and somewhat disturbing family, it isn’t a stretch to conclude that my husband would grow up to have a lot of excess baggage that may be difficult to shake off.

Match that with a woman who probably has a Messianic complex, a dangerous disposition with the potential for extremely unhealthy self-sacrifice, with the intensity of a type A personality — and maybe all we have is a recipe for disaster.

But we are the choices we make.

The day I made my marriage vows in front of a judge was the day I made that lifelong commitment that come hell or high water, I will be with this man for the rest of my life. I knew what I was getting into. I knew the man I married. I knew what to expect, the disappointments and frustrations I will continue having for the rest of my life. I knew the dreams that I would now never get to fulfill.

I had no regrets. I chose him with eyes wide open. There’s no one the wiser to blame for how life turns out to be. We choose our own destiny.

And so after all these years, I ask the question — what is the secret to a happy marriage?

Someone very wise once said — the secret to a happy marriage is still a secret.

Here I am today blabbing away on my laptop, contemplating the mystery that is my marriage.

A disagreement over the weekend, and here we are 3 days later, with my husband treating me with nothing less than cool civility. He has kinder words and warmer smiles to a cab driver and security guard than to his own wife these days.

We aren’t always like this.

On normal days, he’s sweet, affectionate and thoughtful to a fault. I’ve long since learned to turn a deaf ear to his nagging about the simplest, most mundane things like making sure I always carry my rain jacket with me even if it were hot and sunny outside; or whether I’ve taken my vitamins and fiber supplements; or whether the clothes I wear will make me feel cold in the office. He nags a whole lot more than I do… But I’ve come to realize that it’s all coming from a good place with genuinely loving motives.

On normal days, he always welcomes me home after a long and stressful day at work with arms wide open and tons of affectionate kisses that make the problems of the day fade away for just a little while. On normal days, he stops whatever he’s doing to catch up with me and ask me how my day was – and he really pauses to listen and try to help me sort out the most recent quandary I find myself in. On normal days, he can make me laugh so hard that I collapse at the end of long laughing fits from sheer exhaustion.

Not to say of course that he’s not without his faults.

On normal days, he whines and complains a lot about whatever gets his temper flaring for the day. He takes up all my remaining waking hours and makes me fuss over him – bring him water in bed, fix him up a snack, give him a back massage, stay up til the wee hours of the morning so he can talk to me about his feelings, and a host of other chores and errands that he asks me to do since he likes the feeling of having a wife who for a few hours prioritizes him and our home.

On normal days, he can be ultra-sensitive, moody and just plain unpredictable. Sometimes it requires careful tiptoeing around the prevailing mood for that hour. Sometimes he borders on being overly critical of everything I do and say.

I could go on.

And much like this recent setback of ours wherein going home these days feels like just checking into a boarding house with little to no conversation; no warmth and affection; to hugs before bedtime – I could go on and hate him for what he’s putting me through. Couple that with an extraordinarily tough week at work, I could like an injured spouse, decide to confront him here and now and raise hell.

But then, that would just make things worse. In the off chance that he’s actually starting to soften towards me already and be well on his way towards getting over his recent disappointments – raising hell would just set us back even further.

And so therein lies the idea of compromise. And infinite patience. And space. And love. And understanding.

And maybe therein lies the secret of a happy marriage.

All too often I’ve heard stories of couples who fall apart because mistakes get compounded with even more mistakes. The easy way out.

I could do that.

But I think if this recent cold war has taught me anything, it’s the fact that I want him in my life – moodiness, unpredictability and all. ‘Course life would be so much better without those things but that’s the way it is. If it means having to live with those to be able to live with all the goodness that comes with being with him, then I’ll suck it up for now. This too, shall and must pass.

Marriage. It’s a decision every single day. To stick it out despite anything. To weather the storms no matter how turbulent it gets. And to continue believing that with two good, loving and honest hearts, it will all work out in the end.

Meanwhile, I sit here on my living room couch with a silent prayer in my heart that when I go to bed tonight, I can lean on his solid, reassuring and comforting warmth and go to sleep with a smile in my heart.

Three Short Stories

Since I shamelessly (albeit a bit hesitantly) shared my blog URL for the first time ever with office mates today… I feel a little bit ashamed that I’ve allowed this blog to take a dive into the “deprioritized” list hence the absence of new, quality content.

Hence, this new post about random nothings. Well, not really nothings.

Call this little quickie stories to paint a picture of life as it unfolds these days.
















Story # 1: In the Grip of Chaos.

New Year started with an explosive announcement. My boss resigned, and made me inherit most of what he left behind — the responsibilities, the problems, the aches and pains… and occasionally the joy, the fulfillment and pride. And best of all, his MacBook.

It’s been a crazy ride. As if last year wasn’t crazy enough, the world seems to deem me fit and able to withstand all manners of chaos. From my domestic life, to my career, my personal time, my time with my family, and all the other responsibilities, chores and errands in between.

I have a secret nightmare. In it, I fear that my seemingly healthy pallor and constitution will gradually and sneakily take its toll on me someday… and I will suddenly find myself terminally ill.

Lately, my head feels like a mass of nerves. A series of interconnected neurons that have all gone astray, all tangled up and jarred, laid out in a messy heap with no more rhyme or reason. This drives me crazy – the sense of having absolutely no sense of control over anything, and worse —  the head-pounding misery of wondering how this all just came to be. I didn’t see it all coming.

But my story is far from over. So I never lose out on the fervent wish that some day soon, my happiness and peace-of-mind meter decides to take an upward spiral — and hopefully stays there for a long, long time.













Story # 2. Changing Tides.

I know many in the Philippines don’t think much about what’s been happening around the world as a result of the Revolution in Egypt that finally unseated long-time tyrant Hosni Mobarak.

I was watching CNN that day and saw the very first broadcast made by Vice President Omar Suleiman that changed the world. I was washing the dishes in the kitchen; the TV in the living room was slightly muted but intelligible enough that I could figure out the major developments while cleaning out the kitchen. Like many Egyptians, my heart skipped a beat when the Vice President made the proclamation.

A few weeks later, we watch in abject horror as more and more lives are brutally taken in Libya.

In Yemen, the public is calling for the President’s resignation, even though his official rule still ends in 2013.

In Bahrain, police set-off tear gas and fire rubber pellets at protestors who are clamoring for better jobs and political equity.

Even quiet little Oman stages a mini protest — though for what motivation, I can’t be sure.

I don’t know what to make of these events… and what the future holds for the rest of the world. With people marching on the streets, putting their lives at risk to rally for their rights — on one hand the call for positive change while electrifying in different ways, is nonetheless a good change. On the other, where do we draw the line on anarchy? Is this how the world will eventually fall apart at the seams?

Story # 3. The Fight for Democracy Forgotten.

And speaking of revolutions, a hot news item recently emerged in which debates are ongoing whether former President Ferdinand Marcos should be buried at the Libingan ng mga Bayani.

It’s astounding how the polls at ABS-CBN shows that 59% of Pinoys are in favor of having him buried right there. The deposed, unseated Dictator that caused the People Power Revolution in 1986 — buried in a cemetery intended for the nation’s heroes??!?

How quickly people forget. Or is it just because the new generation of Pinoys grew up not really understanding the painful realities that characterized his reign?

It doesn’t help that you’ve got the late ex-President’s son ranting about how if he had stayed in power, the Philippines would be a Singapore by now. Who are we kidding? Take a lesson from History: we were poised to become an economic superpower when Marcos’ Presidency began. By the time he was deposed, the value of the Philippine Peso had declined massively. How’s that for becoming a Singapore if he had stayed on?

Funnily enough, our President now is the son of two freedom fighters who spurred the Revolution that changed the course of the Philippines’ history. To coincide with the 25th Anniversary of that Revolution and not accord it the proper deference by celebrating it as an official holiday — makes me feel that we’re allowing everyone and everything to ignore the significance of that day 25 years ago, and the lives given for the cause of Democracy.

How truly, truly sad.