Another perspective on voter apathy

Math challenge: Without counting, how many paper hearts can be made
using the campaign materials during the election? 

Aside from the university fair that students zealously await come February, there also is the upcoming election of a new set of student leaders for the university. February could be the love month, but in my university, it's also the campaign period. Around this time, people don't only see red but also see other colors.

Blue, red, and yellow papers litter the campus. An aerial view of Palma Hall for example, would probably provide an interesting collage of colors. Some people start to smile more even if for the rest of the semester s/he didn't pay as much attention as glancing your direction. Sure, election is in the air!

I have so much respect for those people who had enough confidence to come forward and make themselves subject to criticisms and interrogations. It sure isn't easy to go out there and shake hands with people they barely know. They have to make use of the few seconds that they're given in order to establish a connection with the voter. Current strategies include;

1. Room-to-room campaigns/dorm tours
Here, the candidates along with their support group go to a classroom and speak to a population of about 20 to 30 students.

2. Distribution of campaign materials
This may come in the form of pamphlets, flyers, stickers, etc. distributed to students or huge posters and tarpaulins plastered around the campus.

3. Putting up of booths in every college
This is for anyone who wishes to ask some more about the party's GPOA. I think this also serves as a way for them to make themselves more accessible and visible to the voting population.

4. Handshaking
Candidates typically roam around the campus and shake hands with students.

5. New media campaigns
Supporters and/or candidates themselves create Facebook pages and invite others to like their page. Here, they post any information relevant to their campaign. Nice pictures, testimonials, and their projects are described here in detail. Videos that orient the voter what a specific party/candidate stands for also abound.

Aside from these, there are organizations that create a platform for the parties to engage in a healthy debate on a wide range of issues encompassing national politics, current events, and university-related concerns.

I recently got acquainted into another campaign strategy - the bedroom-to-bedroom campaign.

The idea is entertaining to some extent that with the more personal way of relating to the potential voter. But I beg to call it foul. The five campaign strategies they have along with several other talks organized by a third party is enough to say that they are in the air.

I understand the fact that they are driven by the need to make themselves more visible. I would go as far as saying that they believe that they have the best plan hence they have to be heard. I dare not question their sincerity, motives... Granted that they are all there for they believe that they can contribute to the improvement of the students, the university, the nation. I have but one sentiment, this tendency to unscrupulously expose themselves.

The bedroom-to-bedroom campaign, I find insulting as I consider the bedroom a private space where I relax, eat, and simply talk to my roommates. In the morning, we find flyers tacked on our door, that I don't have a problem. But to come to our room in the evening is too much.

The voter is weary. Yes, candidates lose their voice campaigning and the support group spend a considerable amount of time doing the best they can to be of help to the candidates. But it has to be acknowledged that the voter is exposed to a multitude of messages by different parties and individuals everyday. The parties need to be careful in their campaign as they're walking a very thin line.

I have heard so many complaints about low voter turnout during the election day. The voters are usually blamed for being apathetic. BUT, is this really the only reason? I admit that some students I know don't vote because of the lack of time, disinterest to participate, etc. This said, I don't think that the student didn't vote just because of that. It sure is a stock answer to the question "why didn't you exercise your right to vote", even so, parties shouldn't be content to simplify the low voter turnout by blaming the voter's attitude.

A self-check is timely. Did they engage the voter enough? Are their strategies really effective in making their message known? Is overexposure by saturating the environment with too many posters, flyers, and what-not a surefire way to introduce themselves to the voter?

Prospero Pichay didn't win a seat in the senate even if he consistently bombarded the voter with "Pangarap kong tuparin ang mga pangarap ninyo" (it is my dream to make your dreams come true). It helped for recall but it didn't translate to action.

The parties need to recognize that their work and purpose doesn't end in the announcement of winners. They need to be perceptive so as to answer the question what would motivate the preoccupied and weary voter to go out there and vote. A low turnout is not only a case of an apathetic voter, it might also be a case of ineffective, insensitive, and unimaginative campaign strategy.

a note by a selfish mourner

i can't even say your name. or throw clues at who you are. but people who know you will know that it's you i'm talking about.

it took me a month to find the urge to write about this. about you. until now, i haven't fully understood the gravity of your passing.

i'm angry. why do you have to leave so early? you've left so many unfinished businesses behind! we were supposed to drink coffee in the cushioned seats of marco polo!

more than that, it angers me how so many find it so easy to talk about you almost casually in public spaces. call me a selfish mourner. but your loss... it's something very personal and something that does not deserve such cheap elegies. and to use the word elegy to refer to what they're doing is even adding some dignity to their tacky crap. maybe we can settle on calling it crap.

you deserve something more. not just few threads in a page with hastily typed comments. you deserve proper sentences with periods. you deserve well thought of texts. you don't deserve bullcrap that will only get drowned once another interesting topic catches on.

i still can't write about you. as in you. i can only write about my anger about some people who treat you like any other subject in a topic.

i acknowledge that i can't control how people should mourn your passing. but i can never excuse them people who i expect should know better than that. there are other platforms to immortalize you. why can't they do that? why choose to do it in a casual, lazy way?

and why was i doing this instead of telling them off? i'm sorry. i know you deserve better than this post too.

Being poor in UP

A semester from now and I can finally call myself a UP graduate. I held on to the beautiful promise a UP education could give me; a good job that would allow me to help my parents put my brothers (I have 2) through college, a distinguished name for myself in our barrio (as most of my kababarrio find it hard to go to college because of economic realities), and a chance to learn from the people whose names I only read in textbooks and newspapers or watch on tv. The assurance of a life much better than the one I've always known has pushed me (and is still pushing me) to endure all the challenges that comes alongside choosing to study in an expensive school (in my family's capacity).

After all, what would I, a girl from an unheard of barrio, be had I not taken the risk and defied the laws of gravity by coming to Manila to study? I was even mistaken for a bisaya househelp by an airport security guard who helpfully showed me the way to the queue for a cheap, non-airport taxi. Five years after, I can still recall that incident. A lot has happened since then. I learned how to fix myself in a way that would make me not stand out so much in a crowd. I learned to at least "belong". 

Much of my stay in college is marred by days when I didn't have much money in my pocket except for that candy wrapper. I always had to work. I jokingly tell my friends that I am the founder of private English teaching to Koreans. I was 16 when I braved the yet unknown to me Commonwealth Avenue to look for people who would take a chance on a public-schooled girl who was never able to read any high school classic readings like Beowulf or never had the chance to read Harry Potter in the comfort of her room until the pirated e-book versions came. There were times when getting a reading was hard I always had to borrow photocopies from my friend. There also were countless times when I had to borrow my friend's laptop just so I can type an essay due since going to a computer shop would mean I have to spend more than Php 20 just to type it out. My computer skills then was really bad. With a Bachelor of Arts undergrad, scholarships are hard to come by too. 

I cannot complain because I chose UP. So instead of crying (though I drop a tear or two in the safety of the comfort room as I defecate), I had to put on this "all is well" look. And though I have really understanding friends, it is hard to explain poverty to them who don't find it hard to photocopy a bunch of readings or buy a required book. In my first few years in UP, I sometimes asked why I had to be poor. At times when I am hormonal I even give in to tears. I wondered why did I choose to study in UP Diliman when I can go to an affordable state university in Davao City. The answer to that is still unknown to me and can only be determined by what happens to me in the next few years. 

Hardships here has tempered my otherwise emotional tendencies. Instead of wanting an ear to share my pains with, I kept mum and worked hard for the things that I need in school. When I see another UP student who does not find it hard to get copies of required readings, I learned to shrug it off. If this is a good thing or not, I don't know. But it has kept me sane throughout the years. 

I have no aversion directed to rich people studying in UP. It's just sad that the number of poor students studying here is not proportional to the actual number of poor people in the Philippines. I feel that the poor are outnumbered by the rich here when in reality, the poor outnumbers the rich. This is not to deny those who can afford a quality education; this is to bemoan the unequal access to quality education. 

It's still an honor to graduate in this institution that prioritizes honor and excellence more than anything else. To all those poor kids like me who want to study here (should there be any poor kid left dreaming of a UP education), prepare yourself to four years or more of paid work while in college. At times you would want to surrender but the world still turns and you can't be left behind. 

(note: I'm a bit busy right now so I'll write more about survival tips in a few days)

Rizal lifeline

Rizal is such a versatile personality that anyone, for any purpose, reinterpret his life, decisions, and writings based on intended effects. I am subject to that now. I haven't done 'reinterpretations' yet but I'm afraid I'm being utilitarian by reading him (or things about him) like a lifeline.

I am aware that a lot of people have it worse than I do, like those kids from Norway scarred by that crazy man who gunned down everyone that he saw or those children in conflict-affected areas who are not sure if they can see the light of day by tomorrow (I doubt if they want morning to ever come). Reading Rizal is therapeutic. It gives me a great sense of relief that great people like him were in a way or another just like me.

It's really great that Rizal kept his diaries, letters, etc. for the world to see. If not for that, we will be left to speculate about his life. But then, even if we have it, we still speculate and spin away so many theories about how he is as a son, friend, lover. All that he has left were really helpful to craft an image of a Rizal that we like to imagine.

Looking at him now through the eyes of my professor make my Saturdays easily the best and the only day I look forward for in the week. Things aren't going so well for me these days that I am comforted to be transported into Rizal's world, at least for a couple of hours.

Scold me please.

On a typical day, I'm not whiny. Not too self-conscious either. Anyhow, biggest confession. Well, not too big if you know me very well.

I HAVE BEEN EATING A LOT LATELY. And it isn't the 'always exaggerated' type of story health-conscious girls tell. If I were to keep a food journal, 50 pages won't be enough to chronicle the food I stuff in my body for two weeks.

My journey with food goes a long long way back. I would like to blame it to my grandmother for using a ladle to feed me when I was younger. Fine, I would like to think that it's her fault so I could relieve myself of the guilty-feeling of having eaten too much. After all, she was the first person to ever feed me with human food. *evil grin

My my... Last night was terrible. Full-on gluttony. And the worst thing is, I wasn't even heartbroken or rejected. You know, like in movies, how girls get a license to eat more than what a small country with 7 million people consumes in a day.

Thinking about it, I may have gained a few pounds just from last night. Oh man. Is there such a thing as a food-whore? Never did I ever, have I ever said no to food. Well, unless they're crabs (coz I'm allergic to them) and seashells (all kinds of it) coz it makes me puke. Tell you this, I am not a picky-eater. Those two are the only food I've rejected so far.

I've tried quite a number of Asian and Western cuisine and I must say, I always found something that I love from each dish. I'll never be a great food critique. I'd never rate anything below 80% anyway.

About last night? Let's see. I didn't eat breakfast because I woke up quite late. Ate lunch with my friend and after which I went to an 'iskrambol' stall to get myself one with additional milk and cookies. Late in the afternoon, my friend arrived and was very depressed about her exam so she asked me to accompany her to the iskrambol stall. So I went with her despite having eaten one right after lunch. After getting one, we ate siomai. And being *ehem health-conscious as we were, we *ehem split one order of siomai between us, just so we feel better that we're trying hard to control our *ehem cravings. Dinner came and we were frustrated to learn that the canteen won't be serving fried chicken - the only dorm food that we really look forward for. One resident even commented (on the food served instead of fried chicken) that it was, "brown na manok na nilunod sa mantika". I think this is the part where we, in its essence, became heartbroken. How dare them build our hopes high only to crush it by serving one of the most dreaded food!

Instead of eating, we spent some of our allowance to eat out. We ordered the always reliable adobo and felt happy. I got quite impatient (because it takes them a while to prepare the food) so I went to a stall and got myself some barbecue. Order came and we saw a couple of others ordering soft drinks. With the pressure to conform having gotten to us (and maybe plain pagiging inggitera), we ordered more a liter of it. Perfect, right?

It doesn't end there. As we were slightly limping back to our dorm, since it's hard to walk with our stomach being heavier than all parts of our body, we stopped by the university's shopping center. That's  where I saw my favorite milk balls (i know there's gotta be some Filipino term for it but the ate didn't know so milk balls for now). I bought one again and ate the whole packet.

We came to the dorm around 8:30 pm. Time is very important here. Around 1 am, we felt the hunger again. As per unanimous decision, we called McDonald's for two orders of chicken fillet with rice. We waited for an hour and devoured the food when it arrived. Mabilis pa sa alas kwatro.

Despite having papers to do, we slept well after eating.

Too much right? I think we have eaten our week's worth of kcal needs. Anyhow, today's a different day (and we've actually spent almost half of our allowance for food), how long could I hold up until I reach for another serving of rice?

Even when you're tired you have to keep walking

My feet ache. So does my whole body. It's cold, it's late, it's Friday, and I'm alone. A perfect timing to be murdered, harassed, or robbed. I felt really apprehensive. I kept hugging myself for protection, hoping that layers of my fat would protect me from the dangers of the real world. I knew I was conspicuous. My top's a bright yellow for a very dark night.When I looked at my phone to check the time, it told me it was already  9 pm. By freshie dorm standards, 9 is late. I missed dinner again.

While walking I was thinking what would I not give to have someone hold my hand as I walk? What would I not give to have someone who'd listen to me blabber about my day, about how I feel? Damn. I'm only this clingy when I'm really sick. I've always believed in Thoreau's principle that the less said about life's sore the better but sometimes I feel like I just have to talk all these out.

I passed by the dorm where I'm staying/working, although I was sure that nobody would notice me passing by, I still felt the urge to walk faster. So faster I walked. I resolved to eating my comfort food (chicken) but was absolutely frustrated when I saw the university shopping center closed. It left me without a choice but to walk a little farther to go to Bermont's to have my piece of chicken, my piece of joy (my chicken joy =.=). On the way to Bermont's I got a little distracted when I saw a dog. Man, I have very strong feelings against dogs. I abhor street dogs with the same passionate loathing that I have with jerks (what's the difference anyway?). Bad omen. I had to walk on the edge of the road because the dog was sashaying in the middle of the sidewalk. Much as I hate it that I have to give way to that repulsive dog whose covering was so thin I can see his intestines, I did coz I don't want to share the same space with it. The panic-attack soon went away, soon enough to make me gain my composure.

On I walk to Bermont's filled with hope that I'd be able to sit down to a nice chair and eat my chicken joy. I waited for the ate to come to me for around 10 minutes. I was already hungry and feeling slightly nauseous because of hunger or stress or irritation or sickness or all of it but still waited. After all, I managed to get to the place looking composed and unhurried. When the ate finally arrived, she told me that they ran out of chicken. Tantamount to telling me that they have ran out of joy to give me.While smiling serenely at her, I was having this violent thought of grabbing her hair and pulling it hard. I left Bermont's because despite other available food, I wasn't prepared to compromise. I'm tired and sick and compromising was the last thing I had on my mind.

I finally arrive at Vicky's even if I was actively trying to avoid ending up to them. I ordered food and became excited when I saw the oil dripping out of the dish I ordered. Much to my disappointment, I HAVE LOST MY SENSE OF TASTE. I can no longer differentiate rice from the dish. I ordered orange juice but I can't taste it. So much for not compromising. So much for having that long walk for a piece of joy. My nose only became itchy and my throat sore. I did fill my stomach but I didn't enjoy my food.

Walking back to my dorm it struck me how lonely my Friday nights are. I love walking but it does get a little lonely sometimes. I look at people walking and I felt like I was the only person walking by myself. I was tired  and very sick but I have to keep walking. Nobody's around to tell me to keep walking anyway. The faster I walk, the less I feel lonely. I cannot afford to stop or slow down because it would give me thinking time. And thinking and feeling while walking and being tired is hard.

Going on a diet

No. It's not what you think it is. Though it could be, too.

I have this undying fascination for Diether Ocampo's (a local celebrity) teeth that whenever I hear news about him, I get all excited. My friend just told me that he just broke up with his girlfriend. *light bulb moment

Though it would open opportunities for others to be with him, I feel uneasy that at this stage in his life he still hasn't found the one. Judging from his smile, I am sure it wouldn't be hard for him to make girls fall for him. Don't get me started with his other merits like having a charity dedicated towards helping kids. I do understand that although having a toothpaste ad-worthy-smile and a charity doesn't really say a lot about the person (knowing how we humans operate), still. So where was i?

Oh yeah. Diether Ocampo. and his smile. and something about the dieting maybe?