College Course. Democratic Discourse.

My professor and I found ourselves in discourse about 'democracy'; for someone so against the current state of American foreign policy, I was surprised to hear his argument that "for as long as [he] felt that he deserves democracy, [he] believe[s] that [his] brother in another country deserves it as well."

Well. Not one kind of democracy will work everywhere in the world. Everyone has different cultural values.

"This" kind of democracy, this capitalism, it's accepted in America. Does it work? For a select group, yeah it works.

But America is a place of individualism, of rising that social ladder. Not all places are like that. The Philippines, the country where American democracy (and all its hypocrisies) has been "bestowed" from the oh-so-benevolent Americans, is not a place of individualism. Kinship, community, entertainment, sustenance... the Filipinos have different priorities. But then again, who knows how long those priorities will stay the way they are--maybe American "values" will cross the Pacific in my generation, or my kids'.

Anyway. Something to munch on.

Image Source: motz under Creative Commons

123 Stephens Hall

I was shaking when I walked out that door. I was shaking when I continued down the hall, and I was trying to steady my breath as I stepped into the sunlight.

Have I tapped something here? Something real?

I wouldn't go so far as to say that my life is "falling into place", but the haze sure is clearing.

Image Source: shawnbot under Creative Commons


Who is the Wiser?

I think we're both right, though. You say we need distance. I say we still need each other, a little.

Now tell me, what's up with this withdrawal? I feel it, too. I'm trying to make it go away, I think. OK, no I'm not. I'm just feeling it... and trying to cure the "symptoms". Too much chocolate. Too much flaking out on activities. Too much procrastination. Too much sleep.

Too much hiding out.

Truth? This is why I've been calling. I do want to hear about your life, I do want to catch up. But also, these feelings of meaninglessness are so reminiscent of our teenage years. I've been calling because old habits die hard.

I suppose I'm letting myself turn inwards too much when I need to set my eyes forward.

Ahh! I can't help it! I'm so bored here. And yes! I do know that it's my own fault for not doing anything, but I'm just so bored with all the options. I need a change of scenery, a change of pace, a change of one damn thing, please!

What's with all these daydreams of getting out of college and, well, settling down? I never envisioned myself to want these things so early.

I wonder if it's because "he's the one". Ugh. Scary. Yet... true. He's amazing. Sweet. Romantic. Generous. Sexy. And fallinloveable.

Time to get out of this rut.


Save Her

I wish she would let him go. She's so much better off without him, but how do I prove that to her? She and I have become so close that I consider her a best friend of sorts. Which is why when he hurts her, I'm more angry than I would be if it were me in her place. I feel helpless. I want to protect her. I want him out of both of our lives.

No girl deserves a paranoid, selfish, manipulating, two-faced, disrespectful jack-ass of a boyfriend.

If only she could be stronger and get herself out of this situation. No one else will, and no one else can. This is a story that needs to come to an end.


Steel Strong Guitar

I am a beat up, old guitar
I sit in a stand
I stand when he sits
I am a beat up, old guitar

I am a beat up, old guitar
I do not shine
I seldom smile
I hide him when he's feeling shy
I am a beat up, old guitar

I feel no pain
I sing its name
I cry the tears he cannot make

I'm warped from time
I'm out of tune
I do not know a lie from truth

Yet I watch him sink
I feel his fall
I catch his every solemn call

He presses me to his lonely heart
I am his old, beat up guitar

Dedicated to any lonely musician

In His Hands

She craves his hands
His hands that give
His hands that lead
His hands that's never made her bleed

She holds his hands
His hands that sing
His hands so strong
His hands where her own heart belongs

She's asked for his hand
His hand that loves
His hand that prays
She breathes a sigh, and in it she lays

She hopes his hands never slip away
Dedicated to Lendl San Jose