#may 7 2016

[endorwitch]

Going through my photos from my two holidays last year finally.

I am only gonna put one of these pics on my wordpress blog but wanted to share this sequence of pics i got of Nate Schmidt. :D

This was from the practice skate on May 7 2016 (went to the game that night and Caps beat the Pens......but the next game they lost and were out of the playoffs......so sad).

I got so many pics of the D-men that day.

[endorwitch]

Grubi’s milk brings all the boys to the yard :D

(photo taken may 7 2016)

[justyouraveragecognitionhoe]

i thought i was going to fit in another entry tonight about my progress with friendship and my social anxiety but it’s already 1 am. i spent a lot of time talking about brown eyes, more than i expected so tomorrow i’ll update about my progress :)

[selenaslook]

[fashionspotters]

Actress Rowan Blanchard arrives at City Year Los Angeles' Spring Break: Destination Education at Sony Pictures Studios on May 7, 2016 in Culver City, California.

Nena Dress in Scarlet Rose Pink

Worn with: Wanette

[selenaslook]

[gospelaccordingtosaintmichael]

Two nights before the elections, a street party revels in glory

THE people, they formed a carpet. It was red and it had holes. In the hours that passed, nonetheless, the carpet had stitched itself anew as it waited for the queen’s grand entourage.

But the carpet remained small even as the evening came; too small to cover the stretch of West Fourth Street, Quezon City where she would come tonight, they said, and they would wait for however long it takes.

Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago arrived four hours late.

They wore a uniform, too: Bright red shirt with their idol’s face in front. Devoted fans, members of the Youth for Miriam movement, flocked together as early as four in the afternoon. The sun beat hard on skin and it was hot and humid that when the wind blew hard, it was useless.

‘Miriam!’ they cheered. Some danced while others sang and a few did both. A boy and a girl played escort and muse and a mascot sashayed across the street.

‘Compress,’ the street party’s host yelled just enough for them to fit in the camera viewfinder. They want to see if we’re strong enough, he said, we must show them we are.

In Luneta that Saturday evening, merely two nights away from the elections, around 300,000 supporters gathered for Rodrigo Duterte, who everyone knew would win the presidency. In Quezon City Memorial Circle, followers of the liberal Manuel Roxas reached thousands, too. Miriam had less than three hundred.

For the host, however, there is only one explanation for that big a difference in numbers: ‘Hindi kami bayad (We are not paid)!’ he cried, ‘Hindi kami bayad!’

The crowd blared in agreement.

SHE arrived at eight in the evening. On her red sleeves she brought, along with running mate Sen. Ferdinand Marcos Jr.—the hot-headed son of a dictator, once-exiled keeper of ill-gotten wealth, perpetrator of moral decency—a vow: to end corruption and injustice.

That Bongbong Marcos is one didn’t matter to Miriam. Neither did it matter to her supporters.

Once, when she had been a judge in the Marcosian years, Miriam ruled against the martial law to protect students who had denounced the First Lady. At her job’s expense, Miriam granted them bail.

So she had reasons for Bongbong, Francis said. Francis studies in a university in España and has an exam the following day. Yet here he was, still wearing a school uniform until around 7 p.m. before donning the red shirt.

The others believe the same: Don’t judge Miriam for her VP, you don’t know her. Miriam respects the law. Miriam loves the youth. Miriam is professionally, academically and morally excellent. She is obviously the best president. She has to be, lest we are damned.

This is the red carpet of the Philippines: the few who flocked together to make their stand. In the war they are powerless, their holes too big. But they are glamorous all the same, and with a battle cry so refined they chant—repeat after me: We are the smart ones, we always know better; we are a losing cause, but no matter. Miriam is the smartest of them all—we are the smartest of them all.

And they will continue to believe in the genius of Miriam Defensor-Santiago, in all her cancer-surviving glory, no matter the cost.

We are only as good as our faith.

SHE has punched her jokes, thrown shade against her opponents, and, knowing that the hundred people before her could probably never attain a fraction of her curriculum vitae, boasted her credentials. In twenty minutes, it was time to leave.

Right then and there, the carpet morphed into a raging river of red on West Fourth Street, and at the center of it all was Miriam, whom they would have given up anything to shake her hand.

We are only as good as the choices we make, after all.

And I tell this—I, who didn’t cheer or sing or dance for her at all, who saw through her flimsy words inconsistent blabbers and tolerance for a seemingly bygone era—I tell this as I precipitously found myself there, in the river along with so many of her supporters, fighting for dear life if only to shake her hand.

I guess stupid really is forever.

And when the uproar subsided, I remained on a pavement that reeked of urine under the moonless sky, but it didn’t matter; on my right was a concert with only half the audience present, but I have already ignored them completely.

Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago is gone, and I wonder if that is all that has left me two nights before the elections, which she had been doomed to losing anyway, as do the rest of the red-clad people who blindly trusted a losing cause during that hot evening on West Fourth Street.

*Originally submitted for CW100 under Prof. Sandra Roldan.

[parables]

Day 19. Looming Balance

Tentative toes peek over the edge of a great chasm. As weight shifts, the first thoughts begin their descent.