According to the latest SWS survey, if the presidential polls were held later this month, Noynoy Aquino would be get the largest number of votes, and one out of every two voters would pick him over all the other candidates for the presidency. In the survey, Noynoy has the edge in the vote-rich areas of Luzon. Based on the response of 1,2000 respondents, Noynoy received the nod of 50%. Other contenders named in the survey were Manny Villar, Erap Estrada, Chiz Escudero and Noli de Castro.
I can’t say I’m surprised. What I am, however, is a little elated. It’s a good sign that Filipinos are really thinking about their choices. I really hope that they will give very, heavy thought to whose name they’re going to write on the ballot next year, and they won’t be swayed by danceable jingles, movie-star appeal or plain tv q. Maybe the 2010 elections will see Filipinos discussing issues, and demanding more in exchange for their votes than just a P500 bill in their pockets, paper fans or hats, a handful of candies or a firm handshake from a contender.
My sister’s already asking me who I’m going to support in the polls, and I a bit hesitantly answered ‘Noynoy Aquino.’ I’m not yet completely sold on the man, but so far, he’s the ‘best’ candidate becaue he has the least ambition, and his record is relatively the least tarnished. Now, because of the SWS survey, there are signs that he is also a winnable candidate.
Noynoy’s oppononets are already making snide remarks and slight insults, like saying that Noynoy should go to charm school. All I can say is WHAT THE HELL?!!! The presidential elections isn’t a beauty contest; candidates should not charm voters but convince them that they’re the candidate who deserves to be trusted based on their platform of government. Sheesh; charm school indeed. It’s clear that even the candidates view the polls as mere exercise in pageantry and entertainment.
My friend Alvin F. professes to be bored with how writers are writing about the political developments in the country. He himself is so amazed at said developments that he describes them to be nothing less than ‘fantastic.’ According to him, writers the likes of Gabriel Garcia Marquez would be creating novels based on the changes that happen in the Philippines — changes which, I think, place so swiftly, and with natures so radical and unexpected that they can take one’s breath away, or at least, make one experience a bout of asthma.
I suppose there IS drama in what’s happening. Who would’ve thought that Noynoy Aquino would be running? His mother died a month ago, and before that he was not even a blip on anyone’s political radar. Now he’s topping the surveys, and so many are pinning their aspirations for change on him (not me, though). Even his love life is being scrutinized, and for once, his voluble baby sister isn’t the Aquino in the main spotlight.
I will never tire of reading A.S. Byatt’s ‘Possession.’ It’s so beautiful, so intelligent, and in some ways so heartbreaking that is quite impossible to forget. It haunts you, the kind of love it described; and it breaks you, when it speaks of the truth that love has it consequences.
My random thoughts as I reread the novel for the nth time in eight years:
We all love differently, the same way all of us are different. How we go about our loving and how we accept it when love leaves or end are also indelible marks of our humanity. We can only pray for grace, and for gentleness in the process of forgetting.
When we write letters to those who have captured our hearts, we must accept that with each word, each sentence we expose ourselves to the core. We describe, we expound, we paint and weave tapestries of our hopes and our desires, and somewhere between the words and the lines, our innate if unspoken need to be needed back will somehow make itself felt. These letters are part of us: they are us.
Those we seek to possess, also possess us; so it would be better if we embrace rather than hold. We must love with as much grace as we can, so even in parting, we will not regret having loved. Our memories of having loved may be suffused with pain, but will not be lacking in beauty.
I was emailed by one of the people working on the Museum of Broken Relationships (see previous blog) and was told that I can still contribute despite the deadline.
Karen Kunawicz in her column today in the Manila Times said that she, too, is contributing to the Museum, and it’s a considerable stash that she’s giving:”boots, flip flops, sneakers, exhibit photographs, an HR Giger collectible statue, a Sandman Death statue, a bottle of Ferrari cologne, a bottle of Calvin Klein: Crave cologne, two track jackets, a black buccaneer jacket, a plain gray shirt, two framed digital art pieces, an award from a Graphic Design expo, a bootleg DVD of Lost, a borrowed chess set, a blue towel and a maroon towel.”
Now I’ve been in a few failed relationships, but jeez, I don’t remember accumulating so many things that I wanted or still want to get rid off because they’re sad reminders. After reading the email-invyt, I thought of this journal I’ve kept all this time and that it would be a happy end to the memories of that specific relationship if I gave their physical repository to the Museum.
It’s a an Anything Book with an midnight blue cover with shooting stars and a fingernail moon, and I was mostly happy the entire time I wrote in its pages. I used black ink and red, and my handwriting often changed from entry to entry ( I’m merely describing here; I cannot ascribe any specific meaning as to why the latter happened).
I suppose I will have to think about whether or not I am willing to have other people read the journal. I guess I could glue the pages together…But then again, it’s mostly a formal and ceremonial goodbye that I’m doing by giving the journal to the Musuem, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Perhaps some of the things I wrote there remain true, but most no longer hold. Love does fade away, and so do friendships. What survives, however, is one’s ability to love, and to accept love; to be a friend, and to be able to offer true friendship. When I reread the entries I made, I feel a kind of happiness at realizing that I was good at describing bliss.