Martial Law Babies
I haven't been the active blogger that I was for a while, because I have those poor excuses like work, busy and just plain I-have-nothing-interesting-to-blog-about mood. Sometime I manage to begin my post (which is a meme in disguise) on to be discouraged because the said meme is so long and the questions redundant. Hence, no blog posts.
Plus the fact that most recent posts are nothing happy. They usually ponder on my life and the things I had to give up for it. Well, for today I will give the good and the bad of it. Might become confusing? yes. Might shift from one topic to another? yes. But such is life.
So why Martial Law Babies? Well to be honest, that's Arnold Arre's new graphic novel which i bought at yesterday's komikon. I had to take a jeep to Vinzons to withdraw so I could get it It's not the usual mythical storyline that Arre is famous for, but the story spoke to me; the true magic of every comic book. I read a book that said "If you want to change mindsets, make a movie." Well, This book sure changed my mindset.
I am not a Martial Law baby. I'm an after-Matrial Law baby. For a time, I thought I was, because of all the documentaries I watched on EDSA I when I was four years old, chanting "Cory!" and "Marcos!" from the bed. I felt I was part of something significant. Turns out, actual Martial Law babies, who remembered and know the dire consequences of the earthquake that brought down Baguio Hyatt and Pinatubo, to them that was epic. To a five year old girl who just watched the "snow" fall as she boarded the school bus, or watched news reports on the death toll of the earthquake, to me, it was just another episode.
I read the graphic novel, hoping it would make me laugh and spend more time creating nonexistent characters come to life in my head, which dissolves any boredom while waiting for an FX, counting the hours until work is over, or while thinking of something to blog about. It didn't. Instead, I got hit by a barrage of childhood memories on Filipino children can experience like dirty ice cream, our fascination to furry puppets, to everyone's dream of going to UP one day, and so on and so forth. It showed how friends evolve and change, but in the end, you manage to stick through everything, and no matter how immature or bleak your situation could be, a warm cup of coffee and close contact manages to make the pain disappear, even for a moment.
It touched on national pride, which people only feel once they're stepping on foreign soil. I thought about that and recalled all those moments my mom kept telling me to try to work abroad, how the pay is good and stuff. Then as I read it, I wondered, "Don't tell me the Philippines is the only country with a corrupt government", "Are you telling me that I can only obtain success if I leave my birth country behind and work for a foreigner whose getting richer because of foreigners?" We leave, saying that we'll send money over. This money will help the country. I beg to differ. It's helping us become dependent on foreign money. We are no longer self-sufficient, always relying on a bigger place to get us out of a situation, like little bratty girl knowing mommy will bail her out.
Well, we have out reasons, and neither are wrong. I respect that. Anyway,
I also met with Bart after a long time, the long time including hearing evil intentions and backstabbing to no end. She is friends with Chichiri now, a big surprise to me, considering what was told about their history. I looked at the pictures she took in her camera and asked her of some of the places and such. Greenbelt, night gimmicks and office parties. I have the office parties, with an entirely different group. I miss the mall over at makati and the corresponding memories that go with them. Same goes for night gimmicks. Way before I graduated, I realized the sacrifices I had to make to become the person I choose to be. I let go. I was the one who didn't fight, and I'm glad that the Graphic novel included that picture of a person who couldn't forget so easilly. meaning people like me exist and it's completely normal. I'm sure at the end of it I will laugh it off, but the end is far and I'm still not ready to laugh at my pain.
I'm supposed to talk about the Komikon, who I met, what I did and others, but let's save that for another post I'll make when I get back from Sunday duties. see ya.
Plus the fact that most recent posts are nothing happy. They usually ponder on my life and the things I had to give up for it. Well, for today I will give the good and the bad of it. Might become confusing? yes. Might shift from one topic to another? yes. But such is life.
So why Martial Law Babies? Well to be honest, that's Arnold Arre's new graphic novel which i bought at yesterday's komikon. I had to take a jeep to Vinzons to withdraw so I could get it It's not the usual mythical storyline that Arre is famous for, but the story spoke to me; the true magic of every comic book. I read a book that said "If you want to change mindsets, make a movie." Well, This book sure changed my mindset.
I am not a Martial Law baby. I'm an after-Matrial Law baby. For a time, I thought I was, because of all the documentaries I watched on EDSA I when I was four years old, chanting "Cory!" and "Marcos!" from the bed. I felt I was part of something significant. Turns out, actual Martial Law babies, who remembered and know the dire consequences of the earthquake that brought down Baguio Hyatt and Pinatubo, to them that was epic. To a five year old girl who just watched the "snow" fall as she boarded the school bus, or watched news reports on the death toll of the earthquake, to me, it was just another episode.
I read the graphic novel, hoping it would make me laugh and spend more time creating nonexistent characters come to life in my head, which dissolves any boredom while waiting for an FX, counting the hours until work is over, or while thinking of something to blog about. It didn't. Instead, I got hit by a barrage of childhood memories on Filipino children can experience like dirty ice cream, our fascination to furry puppets, to everyone's dream of going to UP one day, and so on and so forth. It showed how friends evolve and change, but in the end, you manage to stick through everything, and no matter how immature or bleak your situation could be, a warm cup of coffee and close contact manages to make the pain disappear, even for a moment.
It touched on national pride, which people only feel once they're stepping on foreign soil. I thought about that and recalled all those moments my mom kept telling me to try to work abroad, how the pay is good and stuff. Then as I read it, I wondered, "Don't tell me the Philippines is the only country with a corrupt government", "Are you telling me that I can only obtain success if I leave my birth country behind and work for a foreigner whose getting richer because of foreigners?" We leave, saying that we'll send money over. This money will help the country. I beg to differ. It's helping us become dependent on foreign money. We are no longer self-sufficient, always relying on a bigger place to get us out of a situation, like little bratty girl knowing mommy will bail her out.
Well, we have out reasons, and neither are wrong. I respect that. Anyway,
I also met with Bart after a long time, the long time including hearing evil intentions and backstabbing to no end. She is friends with Chichiri now, a big surprise to me, considering what was told about their history. I looked at the pictures she took in her camera and asked her of some of the places and such. Greenbelt, night gimmicks and office parties. I have the office parties, with an entirely different group. I miss the mall over at makati and the corresponding memories that go with them. Same goes for night gimmicks. Way before I graduated, I realized the sacrifices I had to make to become the person I choose to be. I let go. I was the one who didn't fight, and I'm glad that the Graphic novel included that picture of a person who couldn't forget so easilly. meaning people like me exist and it's completely normal. I'm sure at the end of it I will laugh it off, but the end is far and I'm still not ready to laugh at my pain.
I'm supposed to talk about the Komikon, who I met, what I did and others, but let's save that for another post I'll make when I get back from Sunday duties. see ya.