THE PERFECT DRUG

Kill me, Trent Reznor, for ripping off the title of your 1997 classic Nine-Inch Nails hit, but there's no other way I could, for the first time, discuss a real medical condition with my friends here.

It's been years since I discovered I have this course specifier depression called 'seasonal affective disorder' or SAD (more commonly known as 'winter depression' but I refuse to call mine such since there's no winter on this part of the planet). It's a kind that occurs regularly every year at the same time, and in my case, starts when the leaves start to fall and ends when the trees begin to flower once more. I never tried seeking for professional help, because I know it's not exactly serious or perhaps for fear of discovering more, but upon doing a little research I found out that one, 75% who are affected are women and two, it is usually caused by the changes in the availability of sunlight. At least those facts make me normal somehow. Plus, I'm not in a stage of denial after all.

That explains why I get abnormally down when I hear Christmas songs. People find it funny, but those beautiful tunes remind me that down time's here again. I sleep longer than usual, feel more comfortable being alone, and eat more as a defense mechanism. Despite the excitement and the hype of the holidays, my biological clock tends to run slower than usual with the absence of light. I hate it when I get out at 6pm and the evening sky looks like a 10pm. I usually just recover when the 6pm sky looks like a 4pm again --- but that can happen only when summer approaches.

Mommy always tell me to carry my own weather, but it's not at all easy. That's why I admire people who have this great disposition, that whatever the weather, they see blue skies and sunny days. It's been years but all I did was search for the perfect drug. Not Prozacs or light therapy but rather something that can help me divert psychologically. Honestly, I can't remember year on year now whatever those were. I just know I'll eventually feel better.

S.A.D. might have been proven physiologically, but I still want to prove there's no perfect drug but our own minds. #

AUTUMN

by William Morris

Laden Autumn here I stand

Worn of heart and weak of hand

Nought but rest seems good to me

Speak the word that sets me free.

PROJECT: LIBERATION

Of all my most beloved fictional characters in high school, there's this one guy which Rizal created that I've always wanted to identify myself with: Simoun. Playing both the hero and villain in El Filibusterismo, he came across to me as the strongest and coolest character ever written. As the alter ego and evil version of Noli me Tangere's Crisostomo Ibarra, he delivered the rightful vengeance for Filipinos who were wrongfully treated by the bastards of Spain. But towards the end of the novel, this guy failed me--- and I know that's what Rizal exactly wanted us to feel.

It's hard to wake up every morning feeling all the sun rays trickle down happily against your cheeks. When you get up, there will always be two things that you ask yourself: WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY, and WHAT WILL I DO TODAY. And if that yesterday wasn't exactly good, you summon the rain clouds and start to create a scheme on how to get back to those people who hurt you. No matter how much encouragement you get from people around you, your mood will always boil down to your very own mindset. And when that mindset spells H, A, T, and E, you sure are blocking those sun rays for the rest of your day, week, month, or year. Or even years. It goes on and on, and before you know it, it's eaten up your whole character and has transformed you from an Ibarra to a Simoun.

Question number one: When you hate, whose heart feels bad? Whose mood gets destroyed? Whose work gets affected? Whose friends turn away due to negative vibes? Answer: None other but YOURS. Your supposed enemies would be the least affected, I'm telling you, and they don't even give a damn about your bottle of hatred. The Spaniards went on with their daily habits of plunder and violence while Simoun created a bigger ditch of hatred every single day. Life goes on for them, and so should yours.

Yes, you'll tell me it's easier said than done. We're not talking about issues like Ghadafi or Marcos or that one person who you want to cut the throat of here. That's another story and I'd be glad to refer you to a psychotherapist or to an anger management coach should you get yourself caught between these crazy caricatures. I'm talking about those little feelings that accumulate from your day-to-day experiences, that which can be healed with the first aid we call LETTING GO. To put it bluntly, you DON'T have to MAKE A BIG DEAL out of unnecessary things.

Question number two: How many times did it occur to you that, after getting yourself so pissed with people who were just being their plain 'antipatika' selves did you just laugh at the very thought of even hating them? Answer: ALWAYS. Annoying things and people have their purpose, first and foremost, to annoy us. Second, to annoy us further. And third, to annoy us to the farthest. Point is, that's their ONLY purpose so just let them do their day jobs while you attend to yours. Freakazoids.

As I grew older I understood the metaphor of Simoun when I had my share of tests of hatred and annoyance. And because I haven't perfected the art just yet, I let these emotions drive their way to block my finish line. But even though I know this could be THEIR race, I force myself to realize that I have MY own finish lines. Annoy me all you want, if that's your ONLY freaking cheap purpose --- because I'm pretty sure I do have a BIGGER one. :)

MONDAY SICKNESS?

by Ayn

Monday is unarguably the laziest day of the week. But besides that fact, Mondays can also be one of the bloodiest in history.

Almost a year ago on the last Sunday night airing of NU 107, filmmaker Quark Henares played The Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" as his last song, because in a few minutes then, the station that his father took care of for 23 years will finally be signing off. But that's another story altogether. I, wanting to know more about that catchy Bob Geldof hit from way back 1979, Googled a little and was quite surprised with what I found out.

One day in the summer of 1979, Brenda Spencer, a 16-year old girl from San Diego, California, looks from the window of her home and started shooting elementary kids in nearby Cleveland Elementary School with her own semi-automatic .22 rifle. She killed the principal, a student who tried to help the principal, and injured 9 others. When the police asked her why, she simply said: "I don't like Mondays; this livens up the day." Thus inspiring the Irish punk rock band's UK hit that same year.

And whatever inspired Brenda Spencer must have inspired Seung-Hui Cho's Monday rampage inside the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University on April 16, 2007. Using a Glock 19 pistol on the first hour and a Walther P22 on the third, the 23 year old South Korean citizen committed suicide after killing 31 students and staff, and injuring 25 others. To date, it is 'the deadliest shooting incident by a single gunman in US history.'

Of course we have local versions of famous Mondays.

Just a year ago on August 23, Pres. Aquino's first 30 days in office was rocked by a hostage-taking incident at the Quirino Grandstand. After hijacking a tourist bus containing Hong Kong nationals that morning, former senior inspector Rolando Mendoza of the MPD took hostage all 25 people aboard, spending the whole day negotiating with police and politicians his illegal dismissal from duty. After failing to get what to him was what he deserved after 30 years of service, the rescue attempt began and lasted for 90 minutes, leaving 8 Hong Kong nationals dead and several injured. This resulted to a strain in Filipino-Chinese relations and a black alert travel ban that lasted for months.

And who would forget that Monday on November 23, 2009? Early Monday morning in a small town in Ampatuan in Maguindanao, Mindanao, silently passed the convoy of mayoral candidate Esmael Mangudadatu, then the vice mayor of Buluan town, that would file his certificate of candidacy to the municipal office. Out of nowhere did several armed men block their way, took them to a place where mass graves where ready, brutally gunned them down, and buried them on the very graves, probably some of them still alive. A total of 58 people were killed, including Mangudadatu's wife, sisters, 34 journalists, lawyers, and even civilian motorists who were just thought to have been part of the candidate's convoy. Up until today, there hasn't been much progress in the trial of the primary suspects, mostly members of the Ampatuan clan, more often being delayed due to 'lack of witnesses' and 'insufficient evidence.'

These four separate incidences make me think, what's in a Monday, really? There is such a thing as Monday Sickness, or that ailment which occur upon going back from a weekend, but did it even have something to do with all these?

My answer to that is, OF COURSE NOT. Monday sickness is a mere state of mind, whether it's a simple longing for a longer weekend, or just about any reason you can connect with the poor first day of the week. Our characters might have had the most excusable excuse for doing the crimes --- Brenda Spencer was plain bored, Seung-Hui Cho had anxiety disorder, Rolando Mendoza wanted justice, and the Ampatuans, a sure win. But they sure all bore the societal causes that brought all these back to the same society, this time magnified more than a hundred times, and with an alarming level of violence.

Spencer wasn't plain bored. She was a girl who was abused by her father and was given a gun on her 16th birthday. Cho was teased and laughed at due to his unusual speech patterns brought about by selective mutism disorder. Mendoza was relieved from duty only due to command responsibility and did not get a single retirement benefit despite 30 years of dedicated and decorated service. Obviously, things could have turned out better had their background stories became less disturbing.

I'm not trying to rationalize what they all did, but rather asking you to look at the bigger picture. It is never enough to arrest these suspects and punish them for murders. We have to start addressing the real ailment that brings about these harsh realities. For as long as we don't start recognizing the roles that we play in each shocking occurrence in the society, we will forever be pointing at Mondays as a lazy excuse for our indolence. #

THAT PERFECT ARTICLE

by Ayn

A topic you thought was brilliant dawns on you and you are compelled to write a full-page essay about it. Upon drafting the first line, you hear yourself sounding like Thoreau or Longfellow. You fail to finish it in one sitting, save the file, and proceed with the thing you were originally doing. After a few hours (or days), feeling like you already are back on your feet to add a few more words to the envisioned masterpiece, you open the file and type your heart away. Upon editing, you realize that from the line where you picked up after having left off, you sounded like Knipfel or Foote. Edit, edit, edit. Yet no matter what kind of surgery you do, you still feel the tear. So you decide not to publish it, thinking maybe another topic shall come down to you next Tuesday afternoon. Or maybe a Thursday morning. Or never.

For two minutes there I was talking to myself.

For years I struggled writing that perfect article. Every single day I get a good amount of topics and perspectives which I believe can give me a little push to get back seriously into writing. But I never finished even one lame page, or if ever I did, it was a blurry rendition of something-I-could-have-said-this-way-but-did-otherwise because I didn't want everybody to know what I was talking about --- call it poetry and Twain will kill you. Or, I simply never published them at all.

I stopped blogging regularly for two reasons: one, I felt like pretty much everyone was doing it (and I'm anti-fad as most people would know) and two, I get the feel that those people just wrote like writing was as easy as saying what you want to say and getting enough publicity for it. It was a third crime in writing, next to cliches and plagiarism.

Writing for me has always been a serious thing, more than an art or an expression. Whether it's a line, a verse, or a whole page, I always believed every single word should bear a certain kind of responsibility. And I'm going back now for the same reason, not to mention a friend who's inspired me to do so (Hi Xiaoi! :)). In a world where blogging has been about the latest food joint or gadget or bullying people like Christopher Lao, I dare write about your most hated topics on the philosophy of life and a healthy dose of current events and the new culture. Or anything that needs a little boost apart from this materialistic and consumerism-injected generation. Call me boring, corny, or out-dated, but hey, I'm just trying to be a Filipino here.

Oh and that perfect article? It will follow. #

* Thanks to Sharon Lumanog ---> http://akosisharon.wordpress.com/ :)