deviating warps

london never fails to remind me of manila. during rush hour in the tubes, the stations are always awashed with the thickest fog of bodies. the main difference is that the coterie at victoria station are more spruced up than the crowd at MRT cubao. i got into a gibberish mood with a colleague last week and i recommended watching ballet as a source of relieving stress. she gave me a riposte along the lines of "why should i choose ballet over the drum beats of my culture?"

i've never thought of ballet as too western an influence. i always think of shakespeare as my own kin. or of hollywood as my hollywood and madonna and michael jackson as filipino icons. despite that, i love filipino balarila and tagalog movies. but i cherish hiligaynon more as it's the language of home. bacolod is home. negros is like a magical place with its vast sugarcane plantations and the dust that never fails to settle when one ventures to the far north to escalante. filipinos amongst themselves are collectivist by nature, engaging in spirit, amiable in mindsets.

albeit despite embracing all things foreign, we have to weather a few disdainful stares from the elite G8 citizens. it seems the first world folks never fail to look down on the lowly peasants of the impecunious realms. but burrowing deeper, every person regardless of race are on even keel. there might be rich-poor allegories, but no greater-lesser persons. anybody with a sprinkling of awareness knows that. but some unfortunate souls don't and they would give you the stare. so it's better to equip ourselves with all the armories and stare back, if not pepper them with unbridled charm and sweetness and namedrop literary figures.