I may have long accepted that Bongbong Marcos would be our next president, but it didn't make the process of that assumption turning into fact any less shocking. Or maybe it's because the authorities managed to fix the "seven-hour delay" that held us in suspense three years ago, which meant a bulk of the results were transmitted, and thus reported on, within the space of forty minutes.
But even then I didn't really feel the sense of despair that I had six years ago, when the results of the last presidential election came in. Again - and I really can never stress this enough, again - it's not because I want him to be president. It's not so much opposition as it is fatalism, or if I'm to make myself look good, realistic. Before the allegations of irregularities during the polls, before the surveys, one just knows that what the (unofficial, for now) president-elect has is a pretty wide lead. But then, many refuse to acknowledge what is happening in front of them and choose to believe what they want to believe, just because they see a different set of facts.
For lack of a better term, it was fascinating to watch the reactions of people on my social media feeds. Again, I haven't blocked anyone - now, that's definitely me making myself look good - but my feeds are skewed more towards Leni Robredo supporters. Understandably. I came from a middle class background and studied in a prestigious university. Inevitably I would be surrounded by people of a more, err, left-skewing mindset. (Is it even safe to say "left-skewing" these days?) Inevitably, my feeds would be filled with "negative" emotions they would not want to see on any other day. Shock that, despite their best efforts, the majority of voters did not go their way. Grief that the country is facing at least six years of uncertainty, of international embarrassment, of everything else passing us by. Anger towards 31 million people (although it wasn't clear on election night) who chose the dictator's son over immaculate sunshine. How can all these people be paid-for, and stupid, and, well, stupid?
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With the lifting of most pandemic restrictions comes the return of physical events, which means the art conventions are back as well.
The last time Shalla joined one was just before the lockdowns began. People were, by then, starting to wear masks. Some, not all. I didn't have one. We didn't have a dispenser of hand sanitizer or rubbing alcohol on our table, either. In hindsight, maybe we took it lightly, but nobody really knew the changing rules back then. Just a couple of weeks more and we'd be forced to grapple with it.
A couple of weekends back, Shalla was back at it. She was at the Cosplay Carnival. She arguably had two years to prepare: new characters, new merchandise, new branding. But she was sharing a table with a friend, and with restrictions on how many people were allowed in a space at a given time - not all restrictions have been lifted, after all - I wasn't able to go. That weekend, my duty was to drive, and in at least two instances, produce new prints, because apparently those visiting the event liked frogs.
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Perhaps it's because I am voting, for the first time, in a new city.
Perhaps it's because I am voting in a precinct that's completely different from the one I've been voting on for the last five elections. I used to vote in one school that caters to several barangays' worth of voters, in the province with the second biggest number of votes, and that never ceased to be chaotic. This time around, it was one school for one barangay, so even if it took me and Shalla two hours to vote, it wasn't as crowded. Or maybe it's because it's the token social distancing requirements.
Perhaps because of all that, I was more observant than usual. New city, new route to the voting center (by foot, because we are idiots), new intricacies to deal with. I realized what a thankless job it is being a teacher overseeing the voting process, for one. They're used to dealing with rowdy children every morning (although it may have gotten rusty due to the past couple of years of online classes) but nothing would prepare them from bored voters, usually the older ones, who think they know better, ergo, they shouldn't be waiting in line.
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You are free to take what I'm going to say with a pinch of salt, or a block of it. For one, the things I see are different from the things you see. Also, the last time I predicted who will be the next president of the Philippines, I was way off the mark. I thought Jejomar Binay would win. He finished fourth. I have blind spots.
All that said, considering what I have observed and articulated, it's inevitable Bongbong Marcos will win.
Now, this is not my preferred result. Not at all. My last name and my vague Ilocano heritage - not to mention my reluctance to say "Leni should be president" on this very blog - does not equate to support for the frontrunner of this campaign. But the world does not revolve around us, no matter how hard we try. Just because we want something so bad doesn't mean we'll automatically get it. "The universe conspires" was always bullshit to begin with.
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We don't talk enough about how Filipinos are petty by nature.
I'll admit I say this after watching way too many Charlotte Dobre videos, but still, we really are a petty bunch, aren't we?
I mean, how we make a big deal out of the smallest things. Are we bored? Are we incapable of grasping the bigger picture? Are we raised to not care about those things? Are we selfish? I don't really know.
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No matter what happens in next week's elections, our next president will be extremely unpopular.
Okay, that may not be exactly true. There are ten candidates, and we haven't heard enough about everyone to have equally passionate opinions about them. But at this rate there really are only two candidates with a reasonable shot at winning - and even then it's not exactly a level playing field. So let's just talk about those two, okay? Okay.
No matter what happens in next week's elections, our next president will be extremely unpopular.
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