Egg Cracklets

I've always loved hard breads and biscuits, really crispy toast, and bread sticks, too, but I am really partial to my favorite, egg cracklets.

During college, when my classes were spread out within an entire day, I always (well, almost always) brought along a quite large bag of egg cracklets for lunch. They went so well with ice cream, or with plain cold water when my weekly allowance was dwindling.

Today, I just ogle at bags of egg cracklets stacked neatly on store shelves. I have not bought any for quite some time now, the reason being either of these two, or both: That I have a misplaced sense of frugality, just a tad short of miserliness. If I wanted to, I can forever forgo acquiring things that will benefit only myself, but will gladly spend the greater portion of my finances for things to be enjoyed by the majority of my family. I look upon such a deed as obligatory, rather than unequivocal selflessness. From birth, each one is given a roster of obligations to fulfill, and should we balk at doing them, or treat them with disregard or avoidance, we would become very unhappy; OR, I am an overly optimistic individual, the kindred spirit of those who seek justice, ever hopeful that it is obtainable; and of the perpetrators of crimes, forever seeking avenues of escape and the delay of sought redress; as well as the faceless many whose lives and dreams are regularly decimated by both natural and man-made tragedies that visit this land, but who rebuild each time and move on.

In this country, the hope for change is a national obsession. It accounts for the popularity of a home-grown tv soap about an orphan boy possessed of the divine gift of healing and miracles. At the rate the boy heals people of their morbid illnesses, gunshot and stab wounds, fractures, paralysis, even bringing back people from the dead, he could well surpass and better the record of Jesus Christ. Which is why I think the show is blasphemous to a certain extent, promoting misguided values and fallacious expectations. Healing and change do not happen at the instant of an orphan boy's touch, or overnight. They are brought about by serious work and commitment over decades, at times even lifetimes.

We are dead certain (no pun intended) that better days are in the offing, and that it is written in Fate's pages that they will come. And so it is with me that I await buying my delicious egg cracklets again, promising myself a special treat, a reward, on the arrival of better fortunes.

The Road Ahead

When I was much, much younger, I welcomed the new year like most anyone else: With firecrackers, with noise and merriment. It was difficult to disregard the forceful habit of tradition.

As I turned older, I became disillusioned with all the wasted resources used in welcoming the new year, and so disenfranchised by economic hardship that I had no other option but to be austere on New Year's eve. Thinking about it, if we can collectively become disillusioned with tradition and economically disenfranchised, then we can altogether avoid the casualties and injuries that we foolishly incur when welcoming the new year. Alas, this is highly improbable in this archipelago of contradictions: Where else can you find, but in our poor country, people who perennially complain about the high costs of keeping body and soul together, but who buy deadly pyrotechnics to welcome the new year, spending enough to register a blip on the country's Gross Domestic Product and to keep the fireworks maker well-fed for another year? Or people who pride themselves on being the friendliest, most hospitable on the planet, but who mow down human beings by gunfire, mutilate and disembowel them, and either leave them rotting for flies to feast on, or bury them hurriedly in a mass grave using a payloader? It could only be here, or in some other country masquerading as a God-fearing nation.

I now welcome the new year with a mixture of cautious optimism, a dash of both anxiety and cynicism, but always with redeeming HOPE. The road ahead does not afford me the view of clear directions, it only shows me that lives and dreams are fragile and fleeting. The new year thrusts me into unknown territory, and makes me bow my head in humble, imploring prayer.

Toys!

One of our gifts to my son yesterday was a toy gun that shoots out soap bubbles, with blinking multi-colored lights and "outer space sounds". My son liked it. I was sure he would. I was the one who bought it. I'm a toy expert.

I'm almost 50, but I've not outgrown my love for children's toys. I still can lose myself (and lose keeping track of time) when I'm in a toy store. The ones today are especially big and with so much variety, I'm like a giddy seven-year old when facing aisle upon aisle of toys.

When I was growing up, our family was not exactly impoverished, but we didn't have much either. We just had enough, I think. My inventory of toys regularly increased during Christmas, and this is probably the reason why I still have vestiges of my child-like anticipation of this season.

All my children's toys have long been gone. Even as I shun obsessive material attachments, I regret not having kept them, not so much for their material value, as for the memories they evoke. Memories of quite long ago, when life was simpler and held more dear; when I could laugh and play all day with nary a care; when I believed I could be whoever and whatever I wanted to be when I grew up.

I stopped getting toys for Christmas when I was 11 or 12, but the magic of Christmas has remained in me. I don't mind not receiving any gifts during the holidays, as I intrinsically disfavor being the object of fussing by other people. Even more, at my age I have moved up somewhat in my tastes for gifts. I prefer definitely better ones, like love, for example.

It's amazing how a simple toy is able to bring on this wealth of recollection and emotion.

Devilish

I found it unbelievable that the principal accused in the Maguindanao Massacre of 57 people could afford to yawn during his arraignment and grin tauntingly at the man whose wife was among those he murdered. How many demons possess this man, that he can afford to exhibit an air of insouciance that enrages all those who cry out for justice? We all have our conscience but the evil among us, like this man, have become adept in becoming deaf to its guidance and inner voice. He shows an arrogance both brutish and merciless, and an ailing mind, the result of committing and witnessing too many acts of depravity and murder. He was born in a world where power and wealth are paramount, to be achieved by whatever means necessary and convenient: Land-grabbing, rape, murder, assassination, intimidation.

We, who are not among the vassals in this evil man's fiefdom, find the mass murder of 57 people very revolting. I have seen photographs of their dead bodies, some with their faces enveloped by the merciful peace of death and blood stains; some with faces so mutilated that they now have no remaining semblance to a human face, and are now simply a tangled mass of flesh, hair, and dried blood. The evil man's subjects, on the other hand, see him as some sort of overlord, a folk hero even, who provides them the privilege of living safely in his kingdom, in exchange for their loyalty and submission. They do not mind that with each passing day they become more impoverished and this evil man, wealthier and more powerful.

In this country where inequalities and injustices have strong footholds, I am fervent in my hope (although it may be futile) that the case will be concluded swiftly, lest filthy wealth and machinations, plus the national malady of the short attention span all conspire to bring to naught the search for justice.

It has been reported that the evil man is fearful of sleeping at night in his cell, where he is alone, with the lights out; and so he sleeps in a sort of antechamber that leads to his actual cell. He has said that he is afraid of ghosts. No kidding.

And so if thru some malicious legal technicality this evil man is set free and allowed to once more rule as the untouchable madman in his godless realm, he should take measures to fortify his mind and heart. For while awake he may effortlessly brush away intruding images of those he murdered, in slumber it may be a different story altogether. I hope. The mind is open and on its own when we sleep, and the ghosts of the murdered will find it opportune to torment the evil man at this time. It may well be the national hope that the gluttonous appetites of the evil man has so weakened his heart that it is now unable to handle the mangled, mutilated ghosts that have begun tormenting his mind.

Blind and Cowering

I saw the news about the judge who refused to preside over the murder trial of the perpetrators and participants in the Maguindanao Massacre of 57 people. He said it plainly that he was fearful for his safety and that of his family. It was sickening.

Actions like the judge's do nothing except embolden those who commit murderous atrocities. In this country, the ones who preside over the scale of justice are not only blind, they also cower in fear behind their respectable-looking robes.

Justice here seems to be present and available only up to a certain point, beyond which it simply vanishes. Our judges seem to relish only the sensational, show business-like cases which have the potential of elevating a judge's stature to that of a moral liberator, a freedom fighter, or a champion of the masses.

The Maguindanao Massacre, however, has clipped Justice's steadfastness. It has made a judge step out from the limelight and into the crippling shadows of fear. This crime is as of yet unparalleled in our history, its perpetrators defy logic and categorization. They show no mercy, and respect no one or nothing, except perhaps their insatiable lust for blood and power. This case and its perpetrators are indeed formidable, but the judge is on the side of justice and righteousness, two of the few remaining good things in this country drained of virtue and hope. If these be gone, what is left to look forward to or hope for?

Year Enders

Beginning this year, I have vowed not to watch "year enders" broadcast by major television networks. I do not want to relive in my mind Typhoon Ondoy's deadly floods, or the heart-rending Maguindanao Massacre of 57 people, the fires, the crimes, the poverty, the corruption, the political turncoats, etc.; all the silliness, the cruelty and the evil that men are capable of.

For the economically-marginalized like myself, anticipating another year is in itself fraught with anxieties, it will be quite foolish to add the current year's share to them. Will I have work that will put food on the table, pay the bills, keep body and soul together? Will we keep our good health? Will we remain safe? Will we keep to our dreams' path or be led astray? Will those whom we hold close to our hearts live through another year, or will some of them pass away? Simple questions by simple people, the "small fry" in our society who remain poor year in, year out, their only fault being that they labor honestly in a system populated by dishonest and corrupt government officials and businessmen.

Those who make life miserable and a living hell for the majority of us, the ones who beget their wealth through corruption and stealing, and still have the temerity to flaunt it; the ones who maim and kill without even the slightest trace of remorse or vacillation, will most probably be only concerned with whether or not they will continue to enjoy the benefits of unbothered consciences, as they continue with the finesse of their devious craft.

From hereon, "year enders" will be cast out from my New Year's Eve agenda. Though it smacks of idealism, I want to start with a clean slate, the year fresh, unencumbered by the regrets of unfinished business, and the wails of human suffering from injustices.

I find it appropriate to start the new year with prayers: That may those who labor hard and equitably, who live and love genuinely, be meted heavenly kindness and reward; may all good people's good dreams come true; and may all those who are brutal and cruel, those who have ill-gotten riches and lead ostentatious lifestyles, flaunting them in the faces of people who are poor and hopeless, with sunken eyes and cheeks arising from a lack of decent meals, be dealt a humbling blow by the hand of Divine Justice, so that for the remaining years of their lives, they may rectify the wrongs they have done by acts of contrition, generosity, kindness, and love.

Social Networking

I have a Facebook account and the longer I keep and use it, the better my perception becomes of how human interaction and social relationships have evolved and are evolving.

Yes, we have more connections with more people than ever before, but most of them are merely very casual, lacking even the semblance of significant depth and genuine commitment. We cultivate virtual farms and harvest virtual crops; we give out and receive virtual gifts; we kick virtual asses; we keep virtual pets; we try to dominate virtual ganglands. It seems as if our friendships are becoming virtual as well. We add hordes of "friends" but do we really make an effort to genuinely know and keep them?

While I have a handful of friends who post links to meaningful information by others, or their own meaningful information, the majority post trifling material that may serve their purpose of making others think that they have deep reflections and philosophies, instead of their crass, conceited selves.

Considerable numbers of photographs are likewise posted: Family events, sojourns, nature, etc., and all these give me insights to the character of the persons who post them, including their agenda. Some genuinely want to share happy or grievous occasions in their lives; others simply intend to gloat or brag. Still others post completely inane and useless visual and auditory material, betraying their personalities which may be described using the same or similar adjectives.

A number of people close to me have at one time confided that they find immense delight in seeing snapshots of the foibles, tendencies, and preoccupations of other people. I must confess that I also share in this pleasure. I would like to believe that it is in our nature as social animals (or in our instinct of self-preservation) that we have this desire to find out what other people and their other friends are up to; whether they may be hatching plots to include or exclude us; whether they are regularly engrossed in some virtual game, or taking useless quizzes, or writing gibberish (a coded language, I think, meant to be understood by gibberish people).

Having said all these, I am quite certain that online social networking is here to stay. It fulfills the human penchant to gossip, to intrude, to boast, and to generally waste time. As social animals, we have reached that level of sophistication where, in the wonderful little windows of our computer monitors, with nary a care if we have disheveled hair, smelly armpits, oily faces, or bad breath, we are able to immerse ourselves in a community, to engage stale and tasteless personalities in the majority, and the very rare gems and treasure troves of the human race.