Eraño: Preserving Freedom

I have a friend named Eraño. I daresay he is one of my best friends, being one of the ridiculously limited number of people that I open up to (when I'm sober). Like me, he is a philosophical being who has unique thoughts about the universe, existence, classroom politics, karindirya cuisine, love. Like me he has various problems with the Catholic church. Unlike me he has chosen to leave the brotherhood of ECE majors to pursue another career: he is in the PMA.

No, he's not gay. He's not part of the "Pedicure Manicure Alut (Alut = haircut)" Academy. The PMA he's part of is the Philippine Military Academy. Seriously. If I sound to you like I think you should be surprised when in fact you are not, dear reader, this is only because I am too much of a coward to even consider going there.

Don't get me wrong. I love Baguio. I also love guns and shooting things. I'd love tanks too if the PMA had any. It's just the other stuff that one has to do to get one's hands on said guns. I'm too lazy, for example, to get up before the sun rises and run drills for extended periods of time. I'm too proud to follow any orders given to me by superiors and upperclassmen. I'm too much of a pansy to take my hazing like a man. I'm too much of a slob to not spend at least two days of the week wallowing in bed, doing nothing... You get the picture.

But back to Eraño. He's into his second year now at the PMA, and I look forward to the time when he graduates, becomes a military general, and gives me immunity from the law. Oh the things I would do. I would destroy Noreco and rebuild it from scratch in accordance with Monjean Electronic Theory for a start. Moving on, Eraño, sadly, hasn't been home to Dumaguete this whole time, and the next chance he gets to go will be sometime this summer. And I think two months between homecomings is a long time. That is why--- I'm gonna visit him! Or Carissa and I will, if she doesn't break up with me soon. Capricious woman.

I've been thinking lately. They really are heroes, aren't they? These men and women who endure the hardest training so that in war they are the best; So that they can keep the soldier next to them alive, keep themselves alive, and allow the rest of us to live free lives. Thusly my friends in the PMA, I salute you! And you too, people already in the Army.


Cylon Boomer makes life worth living.

And now that my bit of patriotism is done, I would like to comment that Battlestar Galactica Season 2 owns the rear ends of every other series out there. It owns House. It owns Grey's. It sure as hell owns The OC and other similarly silly lovey series. Why, I just saw Battlestar Galactica peddling the asses of said silly lovey series in the marketplace this afternoon. It just owns, ok? I want a Cylon Boomer. Somebody give me a Cylon Boomer!

BLOGGING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!
September 3, 2006. 8:27 pm.