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Friday, March 28, 2003
Obenieta: Snapping out of the slough
By Myke U. Obenieta
SOUND OF MOSAIC
Hands down, it’s high time for pounding nails into the floor with one’s forehead.
Looks like it’s the coolest thing to do, if we ask those with premature profusion of white hairs on top of their crop of acnes. In a gathering of youth leaders at the Waterfront Hotel last Saturday, the National Youth Commission (NYC) noted “an increasing hopelessness” among today’s youngsters.
Darn, how dare us expect otherwise? As if the world hasn’t gone wanton with leaders who seem to have trouble outgrowing not only their obsession with toy guns, but also the brats’ devil-may-care insouciance at flaunting up their piss for all the world to behold. Forget the lessons of history. The rest is headlines, hapless ever after with variations on the same trite theme: kiddo, the oldies never learn, either!
Araceli Aves, NYC commissioner for the Visayas, nailed down the “prevalence of crime and inadequate education” as among the top reasons many young people seem to have given up. Would Pollyana, that cheery-goody chunk of fiction, be able to connect with today’s generation if she were to address them in the cadence of Eminem’s rap? It never runs out style, that ants-in-the-pants stance spawned by angst.
Recently, a college student straining at the last straw of a failing grade hang on by swinging himself unbearably light with a rope round his neck. Did he snap his eyes shut if it happened that his exam sounded querulous with this question: Whatever happened to Lilet who sang, “We are the future of the world. We are the hope of the nation,” la di da?
Talk about seeking solace and finding warmth. Or, moving from the proverbial frying pan to the fire. And the smoke gets in the eyes of those poring over the results of recently conducted survey: 26 percent of the 15-to-27-year-old population—which has reached 18.8 million as of 2000—had already engaged in premarital sex.
Alienation, that’s one country where those with runny idealistic nose go for vacation.
Charlie Brown might as well have been cloned, and it could be he ran in droves and in panic out of the panels of his comic strip. Now, it seems he is everywhere, his sighs cranked up into a chorus, his head plopped down, his hands flung up over this timeless thought balloon: “I have deep feelings of depression. What can I do about it?”
If there’s any consolation, the retort of Charlie’s irrepressible friend Lucy remains memorably crisp. “Snap out of it,” she frowns.
If the smoke-thick times render it hard to see and read again the good ole comic strip, turn the boob tube on. Once in a while, despite the trash churned out of primetime on a regular basis, there comes something against the usual grain. Yes, like this teaser from Channel 7 worthy of Lucy. “Tuloy ang laban sa kawalan ng pag-asa,” beams the broadcaster Vicky Morales.
That, if you can still nod the furrows off your forehead, is news.
(Michael U. Obenieta welcomes your comments at his e-mail address: yomyko@yahoo.com)
(March 28, 2003 issue)
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