Reveal 101

Netnet Camomot

THE things you write about are the things you’re ready to reveal to the world. The things you keep, revealing them may take time. But who cares about your Reveal 101? Most people are focused on their own life, with no time to ask about yours. Unless they’re bored with theirs and would need yours to fill up their time. That’s when Reveal 101 morphs to Grapevine 101.

I gotta feeling the incoming president has that in mind, too-evealing to his future constituents only those things that he feels he’s ready to reveal. And, oh, he has been revealing a lot right from the start, when there was that clamor for him to run for president. This is one guy who doesn’t care what people think, huh?

And there’s a lot of freedom in not caring about what people think. You say it as it is all the time. But for one who has been there, done that with politics, there must be a part of the brain that filters thoughts before they’re blurted out to the world, that part that considers the consequences. He already has answers to questions that are yet to be asked, and he simply plays with words and insert invectives and a little whistle here and there once the questions are asked.

A politician who has been there, done that, was definitely not born yesterday, especially with a tough image that no public relations machinery could ever make believable without real stories to back it up. Even Manny Pacquiao, the Pambansang Kamao, was not packaged as tough when he ran for the Senate–he won while showing to Pinoys his generosity, giving until it hurts, although that made you wonder if it would reach that point of hurting, with his pockets empty, and his personal treasury gone down the drain.

Each political candidate has an image to project and protect. As to maintaining it after the election, hmmm, here’s a line from the book “The Little Prince”: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

That’s my most favorite quote, by the way. And was so happy to see that quote on wallets in a gift shop at Petit France in South Korea. But before finding those wallets, I had to ask the sales staff if she had that quote somewhere and, as usual, we–the real Korean and the Pinay who looks like a Korean–were both lost in translation again. So, I went around the shop and fortunately found the wallets.

Politics has its own share of getting lost in translation although what we usually see is the end result of the many days and nights of planning and practices and what the madlang pehpohl need to see, hear and feel. Only the most foolish of candidates would not consider those pehpohl’s needs in his political machinery. But the problem with this is, the wisest candidate cannot always fool the pehpohl all the time. They will somehow see who the candidate really is and what he’s after. Or Pinoys have merely become so cynical and skeptical with Philippine politics and would merely say, Ho-hum.

For now, the incoming president has begun choosing his cabinet members. Which reminds me of the cabinets and closets that I have to check for items that are better off outta there.

How to choose cabinet members, by the way? Is it the same as choosing items to keep? My old slimmer clothes are in the closets again, including the colorful shirts which I seem to have “grown out of,” not in size but in thought since I now think in, hmmm, black?

I sometimes think in red especially for birthdays. But most days, it’s black or navy, thank you. Narrowing color choices simplifies life. And narrowing political color choices also simplifies life–you could relate with this if you voted straight in the last election, no need to look at the names peppering the sample ballots of other political parties. But if your presidential and vice presidential candidates belonged to different political parties, the question hovering over your brain should have been this: Will there be peace on earth? Because we have tried that in Cagayan de Oro: the mayor and vice mayor not belonging to the same color, and the result has been kind of, uh, hmmm, ah… chooooo! Sorry, gisip-on ko’g kalit.

With the winning president and vice president obviously of different colors and as opposite as day and night, North Pole and South Pole, tubig at langis, salt and sugar, black and white, well, good luck na lang to Pinas? But since the incoming VP has already said she’s willing to work with any president who’s legitimately elected by the madlang pehpohl, then we can still look forward to peace on earth.

For now, there’s no cabinet position for the incoming VP. At least the lesser workload will give her more time to travel by bus, the mode of transportation she prefers in going to and from her hometown Naga.

I kind of met Leni Robredo last year–or was that the other year?–when she was the guest speaker of an organization here in CDO. She was then bent on running for reelection as a congresswoman–or should that be, congressperson–since she believed her hometown needed her more. The question then was this: if she was running for higher office, like the Senate. Who would have known she would end up as vice president?

But at that time, our topic was not politics but our friend Wilma Pinero since I saw their photo on Facebook. What a small world indeed. Yup, six degrees of separation, and, if my calculation is right, Leni and I have only one? Uh, Leni daw, o. First name basis na lugar mi. Hehe.

Wilma used to be a member of the Rotary Club of Kalayaan Cagayan de Oro, she’s now busy with her organic farm at Dahilayan, Manolo Fortich, Bukidnon, and selling the produce as My Potter’s Garden at Rustan’s Supermarket. We visited her farm last month when we were at Dahilayan for the Rotary International District 3870 Zone 1 and our Club’s tree planting activities, and brought home the freshest veggies which I had to memorize lest I would have used the lettuce as air freshener and the rosemary as the salad’s main ingredient!

On that day of our tree planting, the weather here in CDO was humid, hot, the kind that inspires you to lug around boxes and coolers filled with bottles of water. And that’s what we exactly did. Only to find out that Dahilayan has another kind of weather, the kind that inspires you to hibernate, eat, stare at the trees. There’s another world up there at Dahilayan and how I wish the same is true here in CDO.

And that’s probably where Pinoys are now as they wish that their incoming president is nice or not nice, depending on which side of the bed they woke up that morning after a long hibernation with politeness in press conferences.

Last Friday, while shopping for more black tops in Manila, I heard a lady shopper say, Putang ina. It was part of a sentence that she was enunciating to her companions. My first thought was, Is that her natural self or simply the result of watching too many incoming-president press cons? Because he seems to have made invectives as A-OK.

I wrote about this before so please bear with me. I also use invectives but only when I’m alone or with my grownup–aka old, hehe–siblings. Yes, the works: P#^ang ina, y%wa, sh@t, what the f%*k! But never in front of the pamangkins who would of course remind me: Bad word!

Now, kids are listening to bad words care of the incoming president, and parents must be having a dilemma on how to justify their no-bad-word policy. But, Dad, Mom, the incoming prez is saying “F#^k!” and no one seems to care!

Madonna’s concert in Manila last February was also peppered with invectives, more particularly with “F#^k, yeah!” That was before invectives became, uh, acceptable in presscons. We didn’t know then who would win as president, so listening to invectives was then optional, making us uncomfortable in blurting out “F#^k, yeah!” at Madonna’s concert. Nowadays, I don’t even put asterisks to hide the invectives in this column. Bahala na si Batman, er, our EIC Herbie Gomez in editing them.

But the great reveals will happen once the incoming prez morphs into prez. For now, all these press cons or no press cons are simply the appetizers. But you may have to start savoring the taste otherwise, o my gas, you’re looking at six years of waking up on the wrong side of the bed.