bayanihan

I have lost tract. Shamefully lost perspective.

I started out with such high spirits, visions floating about in my tireless, thinking brain, I had this insatiable desire to narrate a story. I suppose a few days of absence doesn't necessarily count as an epic fail but it sure does feel like it to me. Besides, who would want to read the trivial-daily-goings-on of some twenty-something, complex person who uses too much words and writes too much of the mundane right? It isn't a question of the amount of people lurking about in this blog but about the desire to write. I was never one for an audience - all I ever set out to do was to satisfy this passion for writing. I had forgotten. Waking up, the sweltering morning air unusually suffocating, unable to drift back to sleep, I am reminded of why I am in love with writing. Today, I shall set out to do something that will not benefit me, but will shed light into the collective experience of my country and my people at a time like this.

I suppose it would not be a far off assumption to say that we had underestimated it. We have always thought ourselves used to the idea of having to endure the plight of the typhoons especially since we are the most vulnerable to experiencing it as opposed to those who live in other parts of the globe. We waved our hands in response to what we thought of as inconsequential, shrugged our shoulders, and went on with our dailies. The first few, seemingly harmless weather reports quickly turned into gruesome updates on the number of dead bodies found and numerous others who were (and still are) missing. Cars were strewn across every nook and cranny of the metropolis, homes were submerged in flood water - nothing was spared. It was something straight out of an apocalyptic movie.

How easy it is to lose everything in a turn of a second.

Living in the far south did not exempt us from having to experience a few hours worth of stormy weather. It left our house with just a leaking roof and a few days worth of having to trudge in puddles of mud. It did not, however, leave our city without anything to mourn. Last I heard, a family living in one of our city's slums lost a child to a raging river flood. Families in the country's metropolis suffered a fate that would make any director of a drama film hide in his shallow portrayal of emotions. The word Grief somehow does not seem to cover the feelings of those who have lost everything they have, those who have lost their mothers, fathers, siblings, friends. The word does not even seem appropriate for those whose humble means of living were washed away. Grief just doesn't sum it up. It does not give anything justice.

Now that we are about to endure Pepeng's wrath, let us remember the things that Ondoy taught us. That a house is something that can be washed away but the lives of your loved ones that make it a home are irreplaceable. That things are just that - things. That we should learn to be a little less materialistic and a little more humanistic. That the word help is a verb and not a word meant to simply decorate one's sentence to make it feel like it has a purpose. That the Filipino people has shown how generous we can be to others - to our countrymen - despite having very little ourselves. That not having much doesn't mean that we ought to give less. That we can share more than what our pockets can afford.

On that note, you can visit Bianca Gonzales' blog or visit ABS-CBN News Online to know more about how and what you can do to help the typhoon victims. More than money, the country needs all the help we can get - we need volunteers and people who are willing to donate their services (financial or otherwise) to help rebuild what we have lost. If you live overseas or live in the country but are too far away to volunteer your services (like me), please help spread the word. Prayers are needed and are more than appreciated as well. One super typhoon down, one more to go.

This is what writing is all about. Viva Filipinos!