Election Day.

A seven to seven interplay of source codes, paper jams and inkblots had the Filipinos registered voters exercised their traditionally branded natural right to suffrage which to clarify is a political one.

Yesterday, I went to my assigned precinct with my mom, my dad and my brother. It was such a nice day seeing my grade school friends and classroom bullies, our place’s noted sunoys and palahubog, and some of our distant relatives and in-laws including the no-right-to-be-but-polygamic wife of my cousin, which to accentuate, demonstrably annoyed my mother.

To me it was just an ordinary day.

To me it was just a day to opt for someone no special.

But to me really it was just a day of contention where comedians are treated seriously and politicians as a joke, where strife of principles battles for the private advantages using public services, where brothers fight and destroy the credibility of each.

Well that’s the Election Day in the Philippines. Most families take it seriously that even their children feel blue because the family’s bet lost. Ideally, something was given to them as help before but it is not something to be taken that mad; and that help was, I don’t know, if it could possibly be really branded a help, well selfish help if I may say. It is not like not being able to submit a bound thesis and graduating on time becomes a compromise. My beef is about the reality that it’s just a game of others who were financially brave, not yours and definitely not your family’s to feel bad about.

Politics in this day and age feels like summer. Half of the populace enjoys the summer because they can afford to set a place and pay for the same while the other half would perhaps continue working their ass out and avoid the sun. It is a two-fold idea. It is when one spends and the other avoids doing so making the former earn more and (making) the latter remain on his couch. It is when one man profits and the other one is damaged. It is when one fails an election and the other holds a bottle of rhum to either hit his head or drink to death.

So that’s the politics for most. For me, it was just like a daily quiz. I observed. I listened. I snooped to some voices that might affect my answers on the test day but on the day of the quiz itself, I listened to my own voice. I didn’t know the correct answers but there it went because I’m sure nobody knows the correct answer. I think I just chose the best answers based on my own weighing scale. So win or lose, it doesn’t matter (British accent).

Anyways, before I stop, because my Uncle Pablo doesn’t like reading novels, a seven to seven interplay of source codes, paper jams and inkblots had my cousin who is unfortunately illiterate exercised his traditionally branded natural right to suffrage with my help.

Seeing him look at my ballot saying, ‘kopyahon ko nalang na bala imo, ano na nga number hu?’ and write with trembling fingers made my day more than anything else.