it’s election time once again, and for the umpteenth time, i find myself wondering if it’s really worth the hassle to go through this hullabaloo just so we can put certain individuals in office, who will — more than likely — maintain/recycle the same old crap we’ve been contending with these past few decades (same old, same old). hopefully, some of us (voters) have wised up to this game and make our choice accordingly.

this also reminds me of an entry that i posted in my one of my blogs in 2007 (see below). i was fairly steaming around the ears while i wrote this. the funny thing was, this sparked a small discussion among those who commented, and a few seemed amused at my plight.

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i love saturdays. there’s something inherently laid-back and relaxing about saturdays. which is hardly surprising because i usually associate this day with sleeping late, gimiks, entertainment, or just lazing around my place…

today i was rudely awakened (in more ways than one) from this absurd fallacy. i think i was in the middle of some pleasant dream, when suddenly this horribly grating, eardrum-assaulting music blared out right under my window. i wasn’t about to go down without a fight though. with eyes determinedly shut, i slapped a pillow over my head and tried to ignore the cacophony.

it was no use. after that ghastly intro, the loudspeaker blasted into life. “mga kabaranggay, sa darating na halalan, wag po nating kalimutan–”

feeling somewhat homicidal, i bolted from my bed, slammed the window shut, pulled the curtains down and tried to sleep once more.

fat chance. after 10 minutes i had to give up. even if i could drown out the speaker’s voice, it was the music that was the real killer. the singer (female) was extolling some local politician’s virtues in an awful campaign jingle set to Jennifer Lopez’s “Let’s Get Loud” (and it was!). i was hoping that — by some merciful act of fate — the campaign jeep would somehow move on say after 10 minutes, but no, the recalcitrant thing just stayed there like a leech for what seemed like an eternity.

at 9:10am i gave up the fight and reluctantly turned on my radio to dilute the din. a few minutes later, the jeep went on its merry way to assault another street corner…

which brings me to an interesting point. would somebody please tell me why politicians (or their managers or whoever it is that orchestrates this mess) almost always choose the worst kind of background songs to punctuate their campaign spots or ads? ever since i was old enough to to remember such things, i have yet to hear a campaign song that i can tolerate or (however unlikely) actually like.

well, of course, i can understand it if all they’re aiming for is the song’s shock value or the fact that, if played loudly enough to wake the dead, it might actually browbeat the voter into submission — and thereby drive him/her to vote for the said candidate, if only to stop the aural torture. but i wish those old fogeys would consider the hapless listeners. please guys, there are less blood-curdling ways to torture us, voters (listeners). at least choose a better song. or better yet, please don’t drown us with your crap on saturday morning. some of us are trying to catch up on our sleep after a week’s slog.

P.S. umm… or maybe it’s about time we petition the Comelec to disqualify the candidates with the worst-sounding campaign jingle *mwahahaha*. if nothing else, this will motivate the campaign managers to aim for better quality jingles.

pleeeeeaase… let it rain soon!

and just so there won’t be any room for doubt, we’re posting these pictures to help along all those rain deities and high-ranking weather demi-gods out there who might be listening to this heartfelt request.

a walk in the rain sounds heavenly at this stage.

oh to be out there, splashing and sloshing in the rain. i’d give a lot to feel the pelting raindrops on my face — anything just to be free of this oppressive, energy-draining heat.

give me rain or give me… more rain!

or maybe we should let gene kelly do the talking… er, singing?

*distant rumble* is that thunder i hear? are those wet splashes on my window pane actually raindrops? oh cripes, i must be hallucinating again.

summer has gone full throttle, with all its engines revved up to maximum levels (it just hit 95 deg C, and this at 3:00am!) — which means i’m in my automatic whiny mode.

naturally, i do have my share of complaints regarding the rainy season (floods, typhoons and all the havoc they wreak, damp things that take forever to dry out, etc.). but, believe me, they’re nothing compared to the litany of woes i can draw up when i’m bellyaching about the heat.

this is compounded by the fact that our office’s aircon system is currently going through a recalcitrant phase (oh please, don’t get me started on this one). griping about its performance has been everyone’s favorite topic lately.

while i was eating lunch in the office pantry this afternoon, a grumpy-looking office mate (who was fanning himself furiously) grumbled, “i can’t believe it didn’t rain! it was gloomy and cloudy when i got here earlier…” — as though he felt it was some sort of a personal insult that the longed-for rain did not materialize.

“i know exactly what you mean,” i intoned with heartfelt agreement. short of suggesting a rain dance or bringing up the topic of cloud seeding, i really couldn’t think of anything to soothe our ruffled feathers.

aaargh! i wish it would rain soon.

it was a rainy night… it rained unexpectedly yesterday, and the heavy downpour lasted until 10:00pm so i was in a hurry to go home. i was unusually sleepy because i’d been besieged by equations all day long. as i hurried to our building, i noticed that the stairway lights were on, and the gate was flung open.

closing my umbrella hastily, i ducked inside and had my hand on the iron gate (i was planning to close it and lock up after i’d gone in) when i was jolted — literally — by a scene straight out of a badly written slapstick B movie. there, on the concrete steps of our common stairwell were two guys in their late 20s facing each other and obviously preoccupied doing their ‘thing‘… i am assuming here that you’re getting my drift because i really don’t want to turn this page into some titillating x-rated pulp by going into details.

i don’t know who was more shocked or mortified when they realized they were no longer alone. i looked away hastily from the scene and muttered “uhh… sorry. excuse me,” then hurried to my unit (3rd floor) with as much nonchalance as i could muster.

i didn’t even look back to confirm who it was, but i knew it was my new second floor neighbor (who we always suspected to be gay) because he closed his unit not long afterwards — and he pretty much did a bang-up job of it, too (as in, really LOUD). i don’t see why he should act so pissed off when… although, come to think of it, he was probably sore because of the untimely interruption. ewww!

practice PC. in this age of political correctness, you try hard to tone down your bias and prejudices and try to be as broadminded as best as you can, but really… i mean, i realize it’s a question of lifestyle choices here, but shouldn’t there be a line drawn somewhere? like keeping your ‘private’ business in the privacy of your own home? or at least trying to minimize the possibility of being ‘interrupted’ and/or embarrassed (by other people who might not want to be a witness) while you’re doing IT?

i know it’s your prerogative to pursue your own brand of happiness the best way you can, but do you really have to do it in a ‘conspicuous’ setting? it was almost like you were asking to be discovered! if it were up to me, i really didn’t want to stumble into that kind of scene, and i wish i could say it didn’t affect the way i see this person, but the truth is, it did. now i can’t help wishing he had been more discreet (of his activities) or considerate of other residents in the building at least.

aftermath. no, i didn’t freak out. not even a teeny-weeny squeak. in fact, i was quite amazed at my own detachment (okay, i was amused too) during the event. it was only today, while i was recounting that event to my transfixed office mates, that i actually gave way to my reaction. it was cathartic in a way because i felt like i couldn’t keep that thing bottled in, and talking about it was a way for me to deal with it.

the only thing that bugs me now is that each time i go home late at night, i can’t help feeling apprehensive about what i might see/hear the moment i open the gate. if possible, i don’t even want to look my neighbor in the eye now (reverse guilt?).

*sigh* i don’t know why these things keep happening to me. i really need to find a new place. SOON.