Death and the Me-dia

3 January 2013

It is a bit disconcerting that people are grieving over the death of my namesake. I am affected not only because we share the same name, Stephanie but because my youngest sister Shiela is only a year older than she is. Besides, hers was a nonsense death, as nonsensical as to me as when I won that raffle last year. It was not something we hoped for or expected or worked to be considered for. Completely unlike those who ended up with blasted hands by their own doing, not as if God simply decided that anyone with hands were eligible by chance to be among the selected few who would have their hands explode to celebrate the new year. It was a stray bullet, for all I know my neighbors could’ve sent some of their own to the first few minutes of the 2013 atmosphere. It was nobody’s fault to be material and solid to get hit by a wandering bullet. Though our similarities even in the faintest leaves me disturbed, I am still thankful that we are all alive. It was Stephanie Nicole Ella who died. Not me. Not my beloved Shiela.

Other than the senseless death caused by irresponsibility on that gun firer’s part, I can’t help overlook how powerful media is, for how they spread a child’s death and engrave it unto people’s consciousness sensationally. Yes, we get the point of making the people protest against such selfish, unthinking acts and how other people may die of it without putting up a fight for their lives but isn’t a priest’s death, a priest who was considered indispensable for the Filipino people’s history also worth even half the share of the spotlight? May both Father Reuter and Stephanie Ella rest in peace.

Their death inevitably reminds me of my grandfather, whom I never met, who died on January 1^st. The rains prevented us from visiting his earthly remains. We contented ourselves with lighting up a candle and saying prayers for him.

Wanting to finish writing a novel is like a disease. It won’t leave me be until I finish it. I have the story clear set and finished in mind but the dialogue part is tricky and I have a word count to watch. I don’t know if how I have written it would be understandable to all. I’ve been used to wanting to express myself clearly but it is different now. I now want my readers to relate and understand what I’ve been talking about. Because people do not only live by bread, but by words as well. It is by our words that we build and destroy; that we extend and extinguish a life. I aim my words to come effectively and lightly, a message of hope and love. And because I have a tendency to make everything complicated than it actually is, I would want to imbibe Mai, and her genius of making even the mundane, light and effective. Even if my writing is in mainstream Filipino, (there would be Taglish and gay jargon of course), it sounds flat and unappealing. If I akin myself to a chef, I am having trouble with plating.