Posts Tagged ‘blackslip010’

Sabi niya, “okay lang magtanong, wag lang paulit-ulit”

Sorry na, boy, kung ako’y makulit

Gusto ko lang namang siguraduhing okay ka

Tutal minsan lang naman tayo magkita

 

Wag sana isipin na pinaiiral ko ang aking pagiging peryodista

Pag tinatadtad ita ng taonong habang naglalakad tayo sa bangketa

Na-miss lang siguro kita, yung lang ‘yon

Sige na nga, aaminin kong ispesyal ka sa’kin, simula pa noon

            Still tired and sleep-deprived, I forced myself to wake up at 8 a.m. to make it to the Taguig City Hall by 11 a.m. The canvassing was still not over. Seriously, it was slow in Taguig. Other cities have declared mayor-elects as early as 11 p.m. the night before. The latest count was held at 2:07 a.m., the canvassing was only 53.05% complete. The stats given to me by the Taguig PIO were:

Mayor

Cayetano – 68216

Tinga – 42495

Congressman (1st district)

Cerafica – 28066

De Mesa – 16794

Congressman (2nd district)

Cayetano – 34494

Duenas – 27179

Other than getting these stats, there was nothing to do. The next canvassing will resume at 2 p.m. I just forwarded a press release the Taguig PIO gave me to Sir Mike. Other than that, Trish—who was instructed by Sir Mike to join me in Taguig—and I just waited. Well, we did ate lunch and desert at a McDonalds nearby and chatted with some reporters and the ever-so-accommodating public information officers.

At last 2 p.m. came. Something frustrating happened though. Trish and I already stood by the building where the canvassing is going to be held as early as 1 p.m. We were literally waiting by the table where some local guarding cops are situated. But by 2 p.m., when a lot of volunteer poll watchers and television reporters came, we were taken for granted and almost weren’t allowed to enter. I mean, seriously? I thought their policy was a “first-come-first-served” kind of thing, but I guess I thought wrong. It seems that they would prioritize people prominent people instead. Of course, us mere interns are nothing compared to established TV reporters. Thankfully, one of the public information officers recognized me as he was on the way to the canvassing, and helped us get in.

Again, I could not stress it enough: the canvassing was taking a while. And now I know why. It turns out that some PCOS machines were not able to transmit votes, and two or three machines were not able to feed ballots. The transmissions and ballot-feedings were done manually in that canvassing room, in front of a committee. So you can only imagine how long it took. I admire transparency in government activities, I really do, but at this time, I came to dislike it. The mere opening of the envelope, what are the contents of the envelopes, who are examining the envelope and so on were stated publicly. It was a long process.

By 4:36 p.m., the progress was only 62.33% with only235 out of 377 clustered precincts have transmitted the results. We waited there till 6 p.m. and the total progress hasn’t moved that much. Sir Mike decided we’ll just return tomorrow to get the final number of votes.

                Last May 13th, was a very exciting day of coverage. It was historical and we were very lucky as interns to be part of the body that informs the masses that day. It was no other than the long-awaited coverage of Election Day. That morning, though I lacked sleep, I was excited and giddy—overwhelmed with adrenalin and energy. As early as 7 a.m., we were already in reporter mode. Trish and I were already in San Antonio Elementary School in Makati, waiting for the Binays to arrive and vote. TV and radio reporters were already standing by. Some were practicing what they were going to say in front of the camera, some were just beginning to set up their equipment, some were interviewing voters, some were taking pictures of disabled and aged voters who insisted to go up the fourth floor—where their precinct is located—to vote. Everyone was busy, but I noticed print reporters were the least busy while waiting for the Binays. I actually fell asleep a couple of times while waiting. I barely got any sleep the night before. Other than finding out how many clustered precincts are there in that school, we had nothing else to do. After waiting for hours, they finally arrived. Everyone gathered up around them, even those who are not reporters. Some voters took some pictures with the Binays, and of course, the occasional kissing-on-the-cheek-of-a-politician-as-if-they’re-some-kind-of-celebrity scenario. Probably the most notable thing that happened when the Binays were voting was when the Comelec people in that cluster are going nuts because they run out of markers. One woman’s voice was about to crack when she told another Comelec staff that the markers they have are out of ink. One guy, who is really tense at that moment, was asking the other voters in the room if they’re through using their markers. There was panic, but it eventually died down when the Binays had markers in their hands and finally casted their votes.

The Binays were surrounded by a pool of reporters—with each reporter trying to get a statement out of them. It’s quite admirable how tolerable this family is—answering questions side by side. It was about 11 when we finished our work in San Antonio Elementary School. But the day was far from over. I remember Sir Mike telling us that ordinary people can go on ahead and enjoy the holiday after casting their votes. But journalists basically can’t go home until the election is over. Man, this is bittersweet. I have to face the fact that if I do pursue journalism as my career in the future, I wouldn’t experience the joys of any holiday. Ever.

After lunch, there was really nothing to do but to wait for 6 p.m., where we can start monitoring the status of canvassing in Makati and Taguig. And by “wait,” I do mean monitor the news and any suspicious activity while sipping a 155 peso coffee in Coffeebean. Trish and I actually made it to two rounds of coffee and a single order of a lemon square because of the long wait. There was nothing much bizarre on the tweets that we monitored. Just some reports of some flying voters from Quiapo, Manila being brought to Taguig to vote for a “certain mayoral candidate,” or so the tweet says. We really didn’t get the chance to verify that. We also took the time to admire the silence that rarely surrounds the Ayala area. There were barely any cars around, as in close to none. There were no MAPA and MAPSA officers in sight; the streets were deserted. It doesn’t feel anything like Ayala that day. One of the busiest places in the country turned into a ghost town.

When the clock struck 6, the long wait was over. We all packed up our stuff and got ready to face the night. We drove to Taguig first. Sir Mike told me they’re going to stay there with me till 9, and then they’re going to Makati for the canvassing. When we got to the Taguig PIO office, I got settled in. There were free snacks and coffee, and the information officers, reporters and a couple of interns from other publications were really friendly. I suddenly didn’t mind being left there till midnight.

To be honest, there was barely any action that night. The only thing we did was to wait for the announcement of the number of votes. Print journalists were just taking notes, while internet, radio and television reporters are busy as bees—doing reports and updates every 15-30 minutes. The canvassing in Taguig was slow, really. As of 10:50 p.m., these were the stats:

Mayor

Cayetano – 51599

Tinga – 31545

Vice Mayor

Cruz – 44301

Papa – 34946

Congressman (1st district)

Cerafica – 18699

De Mesa – 11205

Congressman (2nd district)

Cayetano – 28896

Duenas – 22686

By that time, only 40% of the total votes were cast. There were a couple of barangays who haven’t transmitted their votes yet. The canvassing was really taking a while. By that same time in other cities, the total canvassing was already in 70-80%. Looks like I have to go back tomorrow. Sir Mike instructed me to go home at 11:30. The PIO of Taguig was so kind to offer me a ride home—as in from the city hall to my doorstep, for free! Cool. Haha.

Tonight, she was more stunning than ever

Capturing the hearts of the weak, the strong and the clever

With the black dress and the love song,

She had their attention all night long

 

Her beautiful voice was the one that got people on their feet

But she, herself, would never admit it

She always thought in her life, praises will never fit

What she was used to was disappointment and defeat

 

Her song was very heartfelt

The way she sang made some hearts melt

It makes one wonder why the greatness in her she never felt

Truly, she’s sometimes one of the most hard-to-read persons I’ve ever met

 

I guess that in some way she hopes

That there will be someone who “knows the ropes”

That people will look past the dress and the songs

That people will look past her wrongs

 

She’s great but she doesn’t know

She’s capable of so much more, but she doesn’t show

She’s beautiful but she doesn’t feel that way

Even if you tell it to her everyday

 

There was no doubt on her glamor tonight

I really just wished she didn’t deny it with all her might

Oh, how I long to tell her, “I wish someday you’ll see yourself as you truly are

Shining bright, ever so beautiful like an evening star”

Shadow Beast

Posted: April 9, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

This cycle, this horrible cycle… and she hates it. Oh, she despises this so.

When the sun is up, she feels that everything is bright, beautiful and full of light. But the moment it disappears, she feels as if there’s nothing out there but hatred, sin and darkness.

Every morning, she would recover from the events a few hours earlier. Throughout the day she’d be happy, flashing warm smiles and felt the world is full of hope—her aura as bright as that of the sun. She would go home the same way that she did left: with a smile on her face.  Everything was perfect; her world was in paradise. But every night, she would be trapped in something as dark as the sky at night. And every end of it she can’t do anything but to cry.

This girl so bright, full of hope and of potential will become a monster. Something so disgusting, so despicable that she couldn’t bear to face others. She would indulge herself in in a horrible sin. And it’s as if there is no escaping it.

She doesn’t remember starting. She doesn’t even know what are the things that led her to this horrid habit. All she knows is that she can’t stop.

There were times she could. But to no avail, it’s only temporary. It kept on returning; it kept on coming back—destroying her more than ever.

It’s a cycle that was happening for as long as she can remember, how can it be stopped?

She needs help. All her efforts to escape on her own were futile. How can you possibly run away from your self? From the beast that lives inside of you?

At times, she would want to cry out for help. Oh, how she longed for someone to come to her rescue. But she can’t. She can’t possibly call for others. She’s too afraid of their judgment. She’s afraid of condemnation. She’s afraid that they’ll see her like this. Despicable. Disgusting.

But still, she waits without a word. Maybe there will be someone who will notice. Someone who will notice that she’s not at all okay. That there are some things going she cannot explain, that she cannot begin to describe.

Will somebody ever rescue her? Will somebody help her end this terrible cycle?

It was beautiful, a beautiful sight in Lakefront circle.

The sun has just risen, but you can already feel its comforting warmth embracing you. There was a flock of birds that flew on to the horizon. I was walking, and there were people walking with me.

Oh, such a beautiful sight!

Families bonding; parents cherishing these precious moments and children enjoying their innocence. Couples reuniting, mending broken bonds and giving new chances. Friends who shared smiles, and with each passing moment, they knew each other better—their bonds strengthening.

You could just see the joy reflected in the eyes of these people, people who have someone walking with them, walking along side of them.

But, there were a few who walked alone. Staring out at the long path ahead of them, just walking, going to wherever their feet will take them.

What a beautiful sight it was!

Seeing these people to keep on walking, not letting the loneliness overtake them. They carried on and faced the sun—holding on to its promise of new beginnings and new chances.

The sun is high on the sky now. Shadows are already as tall as the trees. I paused to gaze at the long road.

Oh, how beautiful, what a beautiful sight indeed!

To see all those people keep moving forward, again and again, around the Lakefront circle.

It was that time of the year again.

It was the day wherein roses and flowers were everywhere and chocolates come in special packages and cheaper prices. It was the day wherein restaurants and even fast food chains are nearly full.  It was the day wherein parks and amusement parks are a little more crowded. It was the day wherein more and more annoying couples are out on broad daylight. It was the day boys are panicking and rushing to the stores and it was the day that girls would dress up and look a little more pleasant than usual. The day wherein there’ll be music, surprises and, later on, tears of joy.  The day wherein every relationship seems okay.

Most people call it Valentine’s Day. Some call it Hearts Day. People living in the same city as me would call it Paranaque Day. I call it a Thursday.

It’s not that I’m bitter or anything. It’s not that I hate being single today, either. It’s just that this day annoys the crap out of me.

Seeing couples holding hands in public is bearable, but the mere act of kissing, hugging, and walking ever so slowly in public is just infuriating. Some things are not meant to be done in public. Some people would want to enjoy the open space, you know? Go flirt somewhere else where no one can see you, damn it. And today, that ever annoying sight multiplies tenfold. Right now, as I sit in the mall’s food court, it’s like 7 out of 10 tables are occupied by couples. Couples who are just… ugh.

They’re in love, I get it. But seriously. It’s like they can’t get enough of each other. Can’t they spend a minute apart? I mean, is it really necessary to cuddle each other in the train or in the bus? Do they really have the liberty to kiss and peck each other whenever they feel like doing it just because they’re a couple? Geez.

Again, I’m not bitter. I’m happy that people find someone who understands them and all, but seriously, if these couples could show less affection in public, that would make the world a better place.

I admire people who find each other, I really do. Those who have been together for years and are planning to get engaged are very lucky people, and I salute them for having the courage to take such a big step. I have always had this special fascination for old couples, knowing that they’ve been through so much and yet they still chose to stay with each other; they lived up to the promise that says “for better or for worse.”

So, on this so-called Thursday, I’m both happy and irritated by the fact that “love is in the air”. Geez. I hope I’m not having bipolar tendencies.

A friend of mine told me yesterday that in our group, I was the hopeless romantic. I threw at her a bucket full of denial. Why would it be me? I don’t want an ideal relationship, and I’m not hoping for a perfect one ‘cause I’ve seen the reality: promises are not always kept and that thing you feel called “love” can be as temporary as the thickness of your wallet.

Am I a hopeless romantic? No. Not really. Well, maybe a little. No. No. I can’t be hopeless romantic—a little frustrated when it comes to romance, maybe. But not hopeless romantic. I hope.

I never really minded the fact that I’m single nor the fact that I haven’t had any suitors for some time. But lately, it’s starting to get to me. It’s all going back to my confidence issues. Maybe the reason why no one is interested in me is because I have extra weight, maybe because I don’t “dress up” and put on make-up unless it’s necessary, maybe because I don’t let my defenses down. Maybe because I come on too strong. Maybe because I’m intimidating. Maybe because I’m not beautiful enough.

One of those has got to be it. Probably. My bet is on the last reason. The way I see it, most guys look for pretty girls or whomsoever they think is pleasing to the eyes. I have some friends whose beauty you won’t notice upfront, but then became a lot more “lady-like” after some time. Their wardrobe improved, their skin got fairer and whiter, their face cleared up, they maintained a good figure… they have grown to be a lot more beautiful over the past few years. And now, well, the results were evident. One already has a boyfriend for over a year, and the other one has two or three suitors eating out of her hands.

I wonder if such a thing can ever happen to me. Even if I decide to “grow up” and be more “lady-like,” will it end up like the way that it did for them? Besides, who would be interested in someone like me? I’d sometimes ponder on the thought.

Most of the people will spend this day with their so-called “special someone,” while I’ll be spending it with clients, friends and family. It doesn’t sound so bad, does it?

I wonder if things will be different next year. I wonder if in the next February 14th, I’ll experience the sweet taste of chocolates and the faint fragrance of the roses.

Maybe I should stop wondering.