Sunday Columns
Margaux 05/02
I’ve come from a distressful week and is about to face the same fate again, much with antipathy, my analog clock points few much is left for my so-called rest day. I’m jotting this down with Shrek playing on the boob tube, perhaps to give a me a piece of reassurance that indeed it is still “Sunday”. I devoted my whole day mostly sleeping and for instances I find scrubbing my face with newly bought toner. I bathed twice, the latter, after forcefully soaping my two pet dogs “Patch and Kibol”. They followed my father in the adjacent yard near our house and put themselves in the mud.
I officially greeted my Sunday lifting the pages of the Inquirer adorning yesterday’s stampede on the front pages, occupying utmost, a third of the news. What a dismaying sight seeing lifeless bodies fell helpless in the streets I am familiar with. I remember pausing a minute offering prayer after hearing the news over the radio. I learned the news late because of the event preparation I went to see overnight at the posh Manila Polo Club. Perhaps nothing could bring comfort at this time to the bereaved love ones of those who perished. I was glued to the news and had refilled twice my cup of coffee. Also I noticed I’m reading two columns now of the Opinion page – Randy David and now, Patricia Evangelista. Perhaps the placement of their respective columns made them more readable since columns (in the graphic layout) were designed for affluent text reading. Randy occupying the bottom and Patrice’ took the entire length of the right most edge of the page. One article also caught my attention, perhaps of the banner title, which reads a call for “peace zone” in the town next to where I lived. Thus, reminds me the Howitzer tanks and military trucks patrolling on the road to our place. Perhaps these also explains the full-battle gear platoon of army in the public market, and the low flying Huey helicopter circumnavigating our skies, indeed woke me up from dreaming this morning. My father began recalling what transpired Tuesday last week recalling how his elementary pupils were amused by the flying Hueys dropping off in their school ground on a mid-day only to find out bodies of suspected fallen rebels mostly aged 18, were to be brought down to the municipal hall for identification. These, latter brought the puppy-eyed kids in to fear, wondering what happened. Crossfire broke out at dawn of Tuesday sending villagers fleeing away from their homes. Military operatives are still in hot pursuit of the fleeing rebels, covering the adjacent towns including our place.
Until this very moment, I am fazed with the real quintessence of what these happenings are. For one who strongly believed accidents never happen, and that everything is destined and has a reason of happening I wonder the least how I am as an individual could help or perhaps negate the adversities brought up by twining national issues that are affecting me. I remember Randy pointed out in his rejoining earlier that his duty as a columnist is to continue seeking ways to mend solidarity, and pretty whiner Patrice graphically puts “finding her own cow” in this journey.
Perhaps I should look for my cow too, and to begin with submitting my resignation letter first thing tomorrow.
I’ve come from a distressful week and is about to face the same fate again, much with antipathy, my analog clock points few much is left for my so-called rest day. I’m jotting this down with Shrek playing on the boob tube, perhaps to give a me a piece of reassurance that indeed it is still “Sunday”. I devoted my whole day mostly sleeping and for instances I find scrubbing my face with newly bought toner. I bathed twice, the latter, after forcefully soaping my two pet dogs “Patch and Kibol”. They followed my father in the adjacent yard near our house and put themselves in the mud.
I officially greeted my Sunday lifting the pages of the Inquirer adorning yesterday’s stampede on the front pages, occupying utmost, a third of the news. What a dismaying sight seeing lifeless bodies fell helpless in the streets I am familiar with. I remember pausing a minute offering prayer after hearing the news over the radio. I learned the news late because of the event preparation I went to see overnight at the posh Manila Polo Club. Perhaps nothing could bring comfort at this time to the bereaved love ones of those who perished. I was glued to the news and had refilled twice my cup of coffee. Also I noticed I’m reading two columns now of the Opinion page – Randy David and now, Patricia Evangelista. Perhaps the placement of their respective columns made them more readable since columns (in the graphic layout) were designed for affluent text reading. Randy occupying the bottom and Patrice’ took the entire length of the right most edge of the page. One article also caught my attention, perhaps of the banner title, which reads a call for “peace zone” in the town next to where I lived. Thus, reminds me the Howitzer tanks and military trucks patrolling on the road to our place. Perhaps these also explains the full-battle gear platoon of army in the public market, and the low flying Huey helicopter circumnavigating our skies, indeed woke me up from dreaming this morning. My father began recalling what transpired Tuesday last week recalling how his elementary pupils were amused by the flying Hueys dropping off in their school ground on a mid-day only to find out bodies of suspected fallen rebels mostly aged 18, were to be brought down to the municipal hall for identification. These, latter brought the puppy-eyed kids in to fear, wondering what happened. Crossfire broke out at dawn of Tuesday sending villagers fleeing away from their homes. Military operatives are still in hot pursuit of the fleeing rebels, covering the adjacent towns including our place.
Until this very moment, I am fazed with the real quintessence of what these happenings are. For one who strongly believed accidents never happen, and that everything is destined and has a reason of happening I wonder the least how I am as an individual could help or perhaps negate the adversities brought up by twining national issues that are affecting me. I remember Randy pointed out in his rejoining earlier that his duty as a columnist is to continue seeking ways to mend solidarity, and pretty whiner Patrice graphically puts “finding her own cow” in this journey.
Perhaps I should look for my cow too, and to begin with submitting my resignation letter first thing tomorrow.
jotted by maun at 1:25:00 PM
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