Grief

4 08 2009

This entry’s a pain to write. I am self-serving Capitalist Scum, and years and years of apathy is making sure that whatever I type down here right now will reek with a most heady scent of Weh. But the fact remains that I caught myself crying over Cory last night. D was also privy to this, and I understand the utter bewilderment on his face as he watched me getting all weepy over I-Witness’s EDSA I retrospective. Could it be? My skank-ho has a heart for democracy?

To be honest, I’m not sure. Politics-wise, I’ve never been actively adamant about anything, nor have I taken the time to clearly think about where I actually stand. Yes, in 2001, I footed it with some of my family to the EDSA Shrine, clad in black and anti-Erap stickers and wielding a be-diapered Baby Erap doll. Yes, I voted for Roco. Yes, I think Villar’s genius ad campaign’s going to be the end of us (this being Death # 4,500,627,855,399.53). But I know they are empty actions and feelings for the most part, because there is only a modicum of true conviction behind them, just enough to get my ass or mouth moving for a moment. I am shitty.

But despite my unabashed preference for living in a cold, cozy pit of apathy, I couldn’t stop myself from tearing up in front of the TV these past few days. Last night’s outburst was the result of a couple days’s worth of pretending 101% of me didn’t give a damn.

My earliest (and probably only) memory of Cory was just before the ’92 Presidential elections, when I was around 7. Most of the adults in the family were huddled around the dining table, discussing who they were going to vote for. After my exposure to their very cryptic, grown-up grumblings throughout the afternoon, I asked my mom who the current President was in the first place. That’s when she fully explained who Cory was and how she got the slot, and I clearly remember myself feeling all feminist, thinking, “A girl president! That is so awesome! Good for her! That means I can be whatever I want to be!”

Fast-forward 17 years later, and I am whatever I want to be. And what I want to be is self-serving Capitalist Scum. And I am staring at the TV screen, at the ancient footage of a crowd brimming with such fury and passion and purpose, and knowing full well that the past decade has sapped nearly all of this wonderful energy, and that this is such a motherfucking waste. And then, the waterworks.

See? I can’t write about this without sounding shallow and insincere. It’s probably because I am, because I have not made enough efforts to learn about all that had happened, have not acted according to some selfless belief. The best I can do is to try and write about my grief over Cory Aquino’s passing and the horrendous ocean of crap we’re bobbing in ever-so-languorously now.

Key word is try. Of course, bitch ends up writing about herself instead.

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