What's my line?

So it has come to this. Our office, usually busy-boring and dreary during regular weekdays, is jolted by a hostage crisis happening somewhere in Manila. The pain of having the internet, although this one's not exactly a case of technology providing us real-time world surveillance. While we followed it up in the internet as if watching armageddon strike the White House exclusively, the heads up came when a former colleague who now works for ANC texted to inform us that a scheduled guesting by some of our students on the show he produces is to be postponed to give way to the hostage coverage. It appalls us that men would endanger 32 young lives to achieve anything, whatever it is. My colleagues, for wanting to hear the latest news straight from the tube, and I, for simply wanting breakaway from what I was doing the exact moment they wanted to exercise their right to chismis, decided to retrieve the 21" television from our satellite office. I went without thinking twice, there have been plans anyway to salvage what we can from that office since its "temporary shut down."

It has come to this. That I would decide to lift something that heavy in the middle of summer afternoon heat is something big. Our all-around man Mang Boyet helped me of course. But still, even he would admit, it was heavy. The boredom and uneventfulness of my life has taken a physical toll on me. I know I'm involved in some worthy cause, and I thank the gods in all dimensions that I'm enrolled in literature classes to protect my brain from sheer atrophy. But good work is not necessarily mind-stimulating. It is farther even from exciting.

But it has come to this. That I know, deep in my heart, I feel less sorry for those kids than I should be. And I know that I've lost my logic in this case. But on second thought, I really don't use much of that anyway. But its going against everything out of sheer hatred of something. It is after all politics that drove Ducat to such lengths. Of course, I would not resort to such acts to call attention to my opinion, but the question is where really should I resort to? I am shit-slapped every night with political ads of aspiring senators who are yet to prove they deserved my vote. Someone who resorted to military means to achieve his goal still ranks in the survey. Not certainly the media, who puts profit first before credibility. It's a true social gangrene even. I'll certainly not simply kneel down and pray for the world to change in the churches. These very same people, who have sat in power most of their lives, have the balls to tell me that we need to vote for them again when the country is in deeper dung heap when they weren't there? It escapes me sometimes, but I think logic is with me here. If they are already in a position of power, wherever it may be, and they're claiming the country is worst off now, I think fingers shouldn't be pointed anywhere but at themselves. And despite these realizations, the cries for injustice, incompetence, shits continue to fly in our face.

The hate that comes from all these, the anger, eats at humanity. I hate them politicos so much that I feel I am according the hostage-taker some sympathy when I shouldn't. It makes me forget moral and social taboos. It is legitimate rage for me, only I wouldn't have taken a bus full of kids but Batasan during SONA. But something should happen that would put the blood in the politicians hands. I even think some blood should be spilled for real change to occur, and I feel it should be theirs. I don't think another EDSA will do us good.

Someone or something really should pry me off BtVS. I earned a two and a half day retreat from work which I spent in our family house in Novaliches, and rest did not come easy as I expected it to come. In fact, there was no resting. The days were spent watching Season 1 and 2 BtVS from bootleg DVDs for the nth time, and there are no signs that I'm moving on, that I'm getting satisfaction. Despite the hair, despite the bad lighting. I traded precious sleep time for quality slaying sessions with B and the Scoobies. The craving just keeps getting worse. My brother advised me that I should find something to replace it with, like what he did when he finally slayed his own inner demons and jumped aboard Battlestar Galactica. I maybe crazy, but I'm not that crazy. Might as well ask Faith to stick something hard and shiny through my chest. I think I have a major addiction/obsession problem. Maybe I should ask Willow how she got over hers.