Love in the time of Anthrax
October 21, 2001 | 12:00am
The first casualty of war is usually the truth. In uncertain times, when trust becomes almost a divine act, it’s hard to decide where to put our faith.
My home channel is MSNBC. Every morning as I dress up to get ready to face the day, I turn on the TV to the news channel. For months, it was all about that horny bastard Condit. Then one day, his name disappeared from the headlines and was replaced by an event so inconceivable, even for movie director Joel Schumacher. The sight of one of the world’s most impressive structures toppling down before anyone has had coffee will take your breath away for a lifetime. Pundits all around the world have been grappling for solutions. Just when you thought you cannot get shocked anymore, some these clever suckers (not necessarily related to the Bin Laden death crew) conceive of a more horrifying deed – death by mail.
Believe me before this spore attack, I thought death by mail was only possible through killer credit card debts and earth-shattering phone bills. The most frightening thing about the whole scenario is that it is so indiscriminate. You think you’re just getting coupons or some annoying solicitation, but you’re actually receiving a death wish from some stranger who doesn’t even know your name. It’s vile, it’s perspicacious, and it’s making me s**t bricks in my pants.
Since 911, I’ve pondered one too many times if I should just pack up and leave. Then I thought: What about my newly accumulated fall/hiver wardrobe? Those damn Talibans can’t mess with my fashion schedule. However, I realized that this atrocity is far more serious than my mod-themed fall fashion lineup and has made me truly consider sacrificing my fur. OK, so shoot me for being a ditz. But really being the shell-shocked girl whose only devastation beforehand was a major fashion faux pas of being a grunge girl in the early ‘90s, I’m entitled to my one day of irrational thought.
So as my sensibility overshadows my vanity (this means I’m serious), I realized that in these nail-gnawing times, you have to prioritize and get your act together. I went to New York for two reasons: To study and to expand my horizons. The latter objective has somewhat been achieved to a certain extent. However, in terms of my fashion education, well it’s really hard to occupy your thoughts with the hottest colors of the season when all you see is death in all forms (physical, moral, spiritual). It all seems so frivolous now and more than anything else, I just want to be with my loved ones as we watch the world become one huge and lethal land mine threatening our safety in every corner.
I believe that the tower attack and the spore mail is just the beginning of this whole global terrorism. The thing I fear the most is an attack of the city’s tunnels and subways. This is not such a far-fetched idea since it is a vulnerable setting. This is not the time to feel invincible. This is not the time to make statement for personal independence. More than anything else, this is the time to strengthen ties with loved ones and to re-evaluate what is truly essential in leading a fulfilled life.
In the past, my world vacillated around theme parties, champagne, clothes and boys. Today, however, I realize that my innocent and fun-filled world will never be the same. The fluffiness of it all now seems like a faint memory even if it has just been barely two months. It’s time to grow up big time. I had thought that being uprooted from Manila would be a great chance for me to mature. However, due to the unexpected events, I realize my growth will be further reassured in an environment fortified by loved ones.
I guess the only way to go around this maypole of terror is to understand and learn to deal with fear. Statistically, I am more likely to die by speeding car than by anthrax. However, the fear factor has moved me and in a very personal level. My move to New York has seen its fair share of hurdles. There was the family factor, the friend factor, the career factor and the fear factor. I fought hard to get to where I am. However, right now, despite being in such a beautiful city whose electric culture never ceases to amaze me, it seems nonsensical to stay. I have always believed that you should be a cavalier at the right time. Otherwise, you lose.
On an individual level, this whole catastrophe has affected me in a very deep way. For as long as I can remember, I have always taken my folks for granted. I grew up a kid having dogs as friends and nannies as surrogate parents. My parents were extremely busy. A fact I grew up being indifferent to. Yet, I realize that the hours lost were sacrificed for us kids to have a good life and for us to grow up proud of our parents. In their own little way, my parents made the world a better place.
It took me almost 21 years to realize and to appreciate my parents. Now more than ever, in a time wherein I am incapacitated by fear, I want to be with them. As they say, opportunities always look bigger leaving you than coming towards you. I don’t want to waste another minute in the world of me. It’s time to remove this emotional ennui.
For years, the emptiness of feeling sorry for myself was temporarily salved by weird relationships, badly mixed cocktails and stale cigarettes. I was OK or so I thought. I was always feeling barren. Then a conflict between me and my parents came a few months ago (Celini Contra, as I call it). Surprisingly, this discord brought us closer together. For the first time in my whole life, I have a real relationship with my parents. It’s not the authoritative kind but a more relaxed and understanding one. The whole fight revolved around our differing stands on my decision to move to New York. We went for family therapy and there all the pain and hurt that we buried over the years surfaced. It’s incongruous that this whole tiff is what led us to rediscover one another.
It may seem to you that I’m making a Judy Ann Santos dramedy out of this. However, not since the coup d’etat have I been this scared. Nevertheless, this fear has made me realize one thing: Now is the chance for me to be in a family. After being on my own for so long – as a child, then as an adult – I want to be with my dad in his last good years and to be around to absorb my mother’s wisdom.
As the world licks its wounds, it becomes a chance for me to bridge the chasm that has been widening in my heart. In the past, going home seemed ridiculous and impossible as Bin Laden sensuously licking GWB’s balls. In a period of dread and panic, love finds its way to a silver lining. It’s almost ironic that when a dream becomes a nightmare, things start making sense. As Bertolt says, "War is like love, it always finds a way."
At the risk of sounding self-involved, the terror campaign has forced me to focus on what’s important. Though my breakup with Barney’s and Krispy Kreme will be a difficult one, nothing will make me truly smile more than to be back home.
My home channel is MSNBC. Every morning as I dress up to get ready to face the day, I turn on the TV to the news channel. For months, it was all about that horny bastard Condit. Then one day, his name disappeared from the headlines and was replaced by an event so inconceivable, even for movie director Joel Schumacher. The sight of one of the world’s most impressive structures toppling down before anyone has had coffee will take your breath away for a lifetime. Pundits all around the world have been grappling for solutions. Just when you thought you cannot get shocked anymore, some these clever suckers (not necessarily related to the Bin Laden death crew) conceive of a more horrifying deed – death by mail.
Believe me before this spore attack, I thought death by mail was only possible through killer credit card debts and earth-shattering phone bills. The most frightening thing about the whole scenario is that it is so indiscriminate. You think you’re just getting coupons or some annoying solicitation, but you’re actually receiving a death wish from some stranger who doesn’t even know your name. It’s vile, it’s perspicacious, and it’s making me s**t bricks in my pants.
Since 911, I’ve pondered one too many times if I should just pack up and leave. Then I thought: What about my newly accumulated fall/hiver wardrobe? Those damn Talibans can’t mess with my fashion schedule. However, I realized that this atrocity is far more serious than my mod-themed fall fashion lineup and has made me truly consider sacrificing my fur. OK, so shoot me for being a ditz. But really being the shell-shocked girl whose only devastation beforehand was a major fashion faux pas of being a grunge girl in the early ‘90s, I’m entitled to my one day of irrational thought.
So as my sensibility overshadows my vanity (this means I’m serious), I realized that in these nail-gnawing times, you have to prioritize and get your act together. I went to New York for two reasons: To study and to expand my horizons. The latter objective has somewhat been achieved to a certain extent. However, in terms of my fashion education, well it’s really hard to occupy your thoughts with the hottest colors of the season when all you see is death in all forms (physical, moral, spiritual). It all seems so frivolous now and more than anything else, I just want to be with my loved ones as we watch the world become one huge and lethal land mine threatening our safety in every corner.
I believe that the tower attack and the spore mail is just the beginning of this whole global terrorism. The thing I fear the most is an attack of the city’s tunnels and subways. This is not such a far-fetched idea since it is a vulnerable setting. This is not the time to feel invincible. This is not the time to make statement for personal independence. More than anything else, this is the time to strengthen ties with loved ones and to re-evaluate what is truly essential in leading a fulfilled life.
In the past, my world vacillated around theme parties, champagne, clothes and boys. Today, however, I realize that my innocent and fun-filled world will never be the same. The fluffiness of it all now seems like a faint memory even if it has just been barely two months. It’s time to grow up big time. I had thought that being uprooted from Manila would be a great chance for me to mature. However, due to the unexpected events, I realize my growth will be further reassured in an environment fortified by loved ones.
I guess the only way to go around this maypole of terror is to understand and learn to deal with fear. Statistically, I am more likely to die by speeding car than by anthrax. However, the fear factor has moved me and in a very personal level. My move to New York has seen its fair share of hurdles. There was the family factor, the friend factor, the career factor and the fear factor. I fought hard to get to where I am. However, right now, despite being in such a beautiful city whose electric culture never ceases to amaze me, it seems nonsensical to stay. I have always believed that you should be a cavalier at the right time. Otherwise, you lose.
On an individual level, this whole catastrophe has affected me in a very deep way. For as long as I can remember, I have always taken my folks for granted. I grew up a kid having dogs as friends and nannies as surrogate parents. My parents were extremely busy. A fact I grew up being indifferent to. Yet, I realize that the hours lost were sacrificed for us kids to have a good life and for us to grow up proud of our parents. In their own little way, my parents made the world a better place.
It took me almost 21 years to realize and to appreciate my parents. Now more than ever, in a time wherein I am incapacitated by fear, I want to be with them. As they say, opportunities always look bigger leaving you than coming towards you. I don’t want to waste another minute in the world of me. It’s time to remove this emotional ennui.
For years, the emptiness of feeling sorry for myself was temporarily salved by weird relationships, badly mixed cocktails and stale cigarettes. I was OK or so I thought. I was always feeling barren. Then a conflict between me and my parents came a few months ago (Celini Contra, as I call it). Surprisingly, this discord brought us closer together. For the first time in my whole life, I have a real relationship with my parents. It’s not the authoritative kind but a more relaxed and understanding one. The whole fight revolved around our differing stands on my decision to move to New York. We went for family therapy and there all the pain and hurt that we buried over the years surfaced. It’s incongruous that this whole tiff is what led us to rediscover one another.
It may seem to you that I’m making a Judy Ann Santos dramedy out of this. However, not since the coup d’etat have I been this scared. Nevertheless, this fear has made me realize one thing: Now is the chance for me to be in a family. After being on my own for so long – as a child, then as an adult – I want to be with my dad in his last good years and to be around to absorb my mother’s wisdom.
As the world licks its wounds, it becomes a chance for me to bridge the chasm that has been widening in my heart. In the past, going home seemed ridiculous and impossible as Bin Laden sensuously licking GWB’s balls. In a period of dread and panic, love finds its way to a silver lining. It’s almost ironic that when a dream becomes a nightmare, things start making sense. As Bertolt says, "War is like love, it always finds a way."
At the risk of sounding self-involved, the terror campaign has forced me to focus on what’s important. Though my breakup with Barney’s and Krispy Kreme will be a difficult one, nothing will make me truly smile more than to be back home.
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