Reaching Point

Reaching a point in my life where I realize I am, as usual, different. I am feeling like people around me cannot see how weird life is working when adulthood changes ‘normal’ daily grind for the worst.

Reaching a point where I feel like this year still did not offer me the compensation I deserve from the losses and frustrations I substantially gained last year. The reason: I am not what I want to be, I am still not what I need to be. But then again, what should I expect when my life’s share of positive vibe is draining faster than the dreadful negatives?12735591_975786579179768_273246484_nReaching a point where I undeniably need an escape. This is not where I wished I was. I should be near the beach or camping on a mountain or just at home with my family. But I feel like I’m stuck in the world full of worries about my future and studies, boxed with the idea that I need to build a ‘home’ inside the confines of my dread and weary.

Reaching a point in my life where I just want to do nothing for a day, or a week, much more for a month.

Reaching a point of questioning my purpose in life – because I don’t want to live the life of again asking money from my parents when I should be the one giving back to them at this age.

Reaching a point where again, I do not know where to go, where to be, what to do, and what to think. I am all messed up; my decisions are in complete haywire.

Is this a fair share of the universe’s decision for my fate? Because if it is, I now decide that February is just another trial month like January. I’ll sort my life out on March, crossing fingers.

But where does one go when she now reached every point of solitude and cannot go anywhere further?

Dreadful Today

I feel so bad about myself tonight because I wasn’t able to take the exam for one of my MA classes. Call me nuts or crazy but it is the academic exam that I did not take for the first time since nursery.

So there goes the dread.

Everything seemed out of place and out of time today.

We were supposed to leave early to buy goods but we overslept. Comes breakfast, the much-awaited omelette cannot be served on time because there was a power interruption in the egg station of the hotel.

We made a fast track of buying pasalubong of just anything because we were thinking about our companions whom we made plans of going altogether to the airport only to find out that they went ahead of us without even notifying us.

Then the unexpected came. There was a grass fire over the vicinity of the airport causing zero visibility from above the airport. Our 10am flight was moved to 11 then to 1:30 PM. We aboard the plane at 1:30, alright, but we were notified when everyone was inside the plane that due to the airway traffic, we were set to take off at 2:30, nothing left to do but to oblige.

How can I calm the raging thoughts inside my head when all I was thinking was the exam that can cost me an incomplete final grade?

I don’t really know my point here. I just need an outlet to voice my frustrations, sadness, rage, and disappointments out. I feel like crap just because I was not able to catch my 5:30 class and my teacher told my classmate that I should have cancelled my flight to GenSan. Wow. As if I was a fortune teller to be knowing of the future.

What is not there to understand that there was a grassfire earlier today in GenSan so domestic flights were delayed? Why do I have to explain myself when I don’t have any choice in the matter? What part of a “grassfire incident” does my teacher cannot understand?

I feel so bad about myself tonight because I am no longer allowed to take an exam because she does not even have the slightest consideration of what happened to me/us today. I feel so bad because I was not able to catch my class to take my exam when I could have. I feel so bad because I am so tired and exhausted and I still have a report and another exam tomorrow but I am here writing my blog post about how I feel bad about myself tonight.

So this is what depression with rage looks like. I feel so bad.

An Open Letter to Bombo Vicky of Bombo Radyo Laoag

We were hurt, no, we are hurting. And by ‘we’ I mean, me, my brothers, and the rest of our family.

You see, Ma’am, I’m living here in the metro and my brother called me earlier this morning — which he usually doesn’t do unless it is some kind of emergency — to burst his frustrations, pain, and hurting out.

I am writing this letter as my teacher in one of my MA classes is discussing about I don’t know what because my mind wanders to my brothers back home who are hurt by the words you broadcasted about our mom.

I am writing this open-letter — being the eldest child of three — for the woman you condemned on-air and whom we admire so much.

I’m writing this open-letter in favor of you, Ma’am. As a journalist, it’s against the code of ethics, but let me present, just like what you did, a one-sided story. It’s just that, this time, it’s my mother’s.

I am writing this letter, without my mom knowing, because she told me earlier that it’s okay, and I just let it be, let it pass. But, Ma’am, I can’t. Because the woman you just insensitively degraded and insulted on air is the same woman who works hard to put food on our table. The woman who sends me and my brothers to school though it means sacrificing her luxuries she mostly deserves.

Ma’am, this is my mom’s side and because you impulsively aired the other’s without stating disclaimers and without prior verification, I choose to write it in the most restpectful way I can.

Dear Ma’am Vicky, my mother is the most compassionate person you can possibly meet in entire humanity. If, just like what you said, you think that she is unethical, has no manners, and I don’t know what negativities more, I’m telling you, you’re thinking — or you thought– wrong.

The incident, my Mom said, happened last Tuesday. She was goofing around with the nurses, and she teased, as she always does, this woman — whoever she is — by pouring an empty bottled water above her head.

To clear things out, it’s empty, but it is inevitable that a drop would come from the container — no elaboration needed, just pure common sense.

Again, it was empty, in contrast of what you told the public that my Mom poured a glass full of water to *whoever she is*. If it is true, my Mom should be suspended by that rude act by now.

I am writing this open-letter, in behalf of my Mom, to say sorry for bonding with her colleagues. We are sorry that Mom does not make a bad record when it comes to her co-workers, and we are sorry that she is deeply loved by her fellows. Most importantly, we are sorry that a droplet of water had the woman’s hair a bit wet. We already debriefed our mom to never do such an act, ever again. But we are not going to say sorry for what we think about your impulsive broadcasting.

What would you feel if you are accused of being involved in a love triangle, knowing full well that you have a loving husband and children, who for the first time in their entire existence, heard the unimaginable news on a live broadcast, early in the morning, while getting ready to go to school?

What do you think will your children do to further process this information? I don’t know if you have children because if you don’t, I’ll understand why you don’t think even for a second before you speak these kind of social issues publicly. Because from what I observe everytime I come home in the province is that you don’t consider the feelings of the people that may be involved and hurt with your words.

I grew up having Bombo Radyo as my alarm [clock] every morning because my grandmother always wants to hear news from your station. So, thank you, still, for existing.

However, ma’am, in case you forgot, let me tell you again the news values that we, as journalists, must live with, ideally, so to speak.

The news about my Mom only falls under human interest, in the side of conflict and I acknowledge that. However, you missed one value, the significance (of the matter) or what we also call [social] relevance. It also seems that you did not consider the professional standard side which includes accuracy, completeness, fairness, and balance in your script.

I also want to reiterate about ethical standards in the part of justice, but I am not going to add detail about it because I am hoping that through this writing, we are going to have the justice that you– with the person who reported the disinformation to you– unconsciously and deliberately took away from our family.

I remember what my professor in Media Law class said earlier today and I quote, “False information has the capacity to lodge themselves in the minds of the people,” and that just happened because of your cavalier. So, don’t blame me, Ma’am, if I state the obvious, that what you practiced in my Mom’s case is a selective broadcast journalism. Excerpts from the Culture IndustryThis is one-sided, and I don’t care, because I’m copying what you did. The only difference is that the whole region heard your rants and degrading opinion that caused my Mom’s dignity as a leader, a friend, and a woman who’s always in service to humanity falter a bit.

That, Ma’am, I am telling you now, has been the bad consequence/s of what you reported on air.

This is one-sided because I am joining your bandwagon, the status quo you set as a standard in Ilocos Norte broadcast journalism. But this is the first and I promise, my last.

I am writing this because we are hurt, no, we are hurting.. And because we don’t want other sons and daughters to feel the dread we are currently feeling now just because of your irrelevant shouting and snide remarks on air.. And I, again, end with emphasis, without prior verification.

Ma’am, this is the other side of the story. You’re welcome.

Sincerely,
A daughter who can’t just be silent while her Mom is being accused of unverified news from unreliable sources ~